London Rain
by Natsu
Summary: My most popular fic. Set in London, focusing on Yamato's new life and old relationships...in other words...a tale of drugs, booze, sex and rock & roll. Yee-hah! Angst, romance, drama, with some humour thrown in. YAOI - Taito, coz it rocks.
1. Default Chapter

Ants

London Rain

~Natsu~

A/N: Well…I've been nursing this idea for a while now, and I finally decided to write it. It's a Taito (ooh, adventurous!) and it's set here. In England. I've been wanting to write something set in London for aaaages and this seemed like the perfect fic, especially when I remembered Heather Nova's song 'London Rain'. Ahywho…I did have a whole load of clever, interesting things to say but I seem to have suddenly forgotten them. YAOI/SLASH/Whatever the hell else you want to call it. If you don't like it, do yourself a favour and don't read the bloody fic, okay? Um…It follows my first Taito fic 'Turning', but you don't need to read that to understand any of this. It's pretty straight forward. I'm not an expert on drugs (alcohol I have no problem with on the other hand…^^) so cut me some slack, alright? Oh…and if your name is Missy…I apologise in advance. No offence is intended. Ahem. Let me know if I should continue. Hope you like it! 

Ants. That's what they are. Fucking sheep. Lemmings. Back and forth in scattering processions, all fol-low-ing the lea-der. Leader. Ha.

I hold the shot glass up to my eye and watch as the busy trails of Oxford Street shoppers blur and waver through the liquid's crystal clear contours. They don't know. They don't know at all. They think they understand? They don't. If only they could see themselves. Back and forth, back and forth…follow the leader. Keep following.

I don't want to look any more. I close my eyes in distaste, bringing the numbing glass rim to my lips and throwing my head back dramatically. I exhale sharply as the stiff liquor burns its spiteful way down my throat. For a moment my mind is clouded beyond competent thought. The ignorant shoppers, the unfamiliar surroundings, all my problems…gone. Meaningless. Bliss. Shame it doesn't last longer. My hand fumbles for the curtain chord and the heavy velvet drops into place shutting me off. Blocking out the infuriatingly chaotic streets, completely different and exactly the same as home. But of course they're still there. I can't see them but they're there. Still the same, still following…

The hotel room is ridiculously extravagant. Fluffy shag carpet, a bathroom the size of my old bedroom, expensive coffee-coloured wood and a huge double bed draped in folds of buttermilk silk. What good's a bed like that when you have no one to share it with? Am I supposed to be impressed? Is that the meaning of the extravagance? To impress the stuck-up foreign rock star who's worth all that money? Probably.

"Well I'm not," I whisper aloud, "I'm not impressed." All this is only pretty cloth and shiny things. Nothing I haven't seen before. Nothing impressive. I'm not impressed. They'll just have to try harder, won't they? Taking me home with a snap of their fingers; bringing Takeru here so that he can tell me it's all okay; undoing the last two years…now that would be impressive.

Takeru…I could call him. I could. There's the phone. The ridiculously extravagant phone on the ridiculously extravagant hotel table. I check my watch, which is still set to Tokyo time – my time. It's the middle of the night, I can't wake him, 'But it's an emergency,' a voice in my head pipes up, 'He won't mind.' I blink and snatch up the receiver, fingers hovering undecided over the printed numbers. An emergency? What emergency? What do I expect to say? "Hi TK, sorry to wake you but I'm feeling down. Make it better." Yeah…as if he could. He can't perform miracles. He's no more capable of helping me than the unimpressive hotel managers. He can't do any more than Kate the therapist could. Dr. Katherine 'Just call me Kate!' Granger. Dr. 'I can't help you if you don't help yourself, Yamato'. You think I haven't tried that, 'Kate'? You think that making things better on my own wasn't the first thing I tried? Nobody can help now. Takeru perhaps…but he's in Japan. Taichi indefinitely…but he's long gone.

Not that I can blame anyone but myself for that of course. I had him. He said 'I love you'. I was there, he was there…and now I'm all alone. Stupid Yamato. You're a fucking idiot aren't you? Stupid. No wonder you're stuck like this. What the hell else did you expect? Here…on your own…with only mindless, following sheep for company…aching to cry but too drugged up on anti-depressants to shed a tear. I bet everyone else saw it coming. Everyone but me. You're always the last to notice, aren't you Yamato? Always last…you don't want to know so you don't bother to notice. Real intelligent. God, I'm an idiot.

I slump into a chair and take a drag on a cigarette that has somehow found it's way between my lips. I have no recollection of lighting it. Where the hell did I find it anyway? I was looking all over the room for them this morning. I assumed that Yutaka must have confiscated them. He hates my smoking. Yutaka is my bodyguard. Bodyguard. Isn't that the funniest thing you ever heard? Yamato Ishida isn't allowed to leave his room without his bodyguard. God, I hate that. I hate it…it's like being fifteen again. You're old enough to understand what independence and freedom are, you know enough to know that you want them. And you're dying to spread your wings and fly on your own, but you can't because you're still trapped behind the unbreakable bars of the school system and the hulking bulk of your parents. It's like that all over again. I'm what…22 now? And I'm still stuck like this. 

But that's not what I was saying. I was telling you about Yutaka. I hate having to have a bodyguard, but I don't hate him. He's like a big brother, which is kind of nice because I've never had a big brother, only been one. He's the only good thing about all this. Out of all the people I've met since I signed that fucking death warrant of a contract, he's the only one I really like. Well except for Leslie the beautician from New York. She's one of Mimi's American friends apparently ("Are you, tellin' me that you know my girl Mimi?! Well. Small world, huh?"). She's sweet. But I like Yutaka…probably because he reminds me of Taichi. I chuckle. Taichi would smash my face in he knew I'd started smoking even after I promised him I never would. It's not like he's here to know though, is he? I exhale, feeling my tense muscles relax slightly as I follow the delicate misty coils with heavy, shadowed eyes. It tastes disgusting. The taste makes me choke. But the heady smell and the whispery patterns of the smoke trails remind me of home. Of my Dad. Of better times.

My manager doesn't care. Missy my manager. What kind of name is that for a manager anyway? Missy the manager. Missy the manager…like a Barbie doll. She looks like one too. "Hi! I'm Moody Manager Bitch Barbie! Would you like to brush my hair?" I swear there probably isn't a part of her body left that wouldn't melt if she stayed in direct sunlight for too long. Missy and I don't get on too good to say the least. I couldn't hate her more if I tried and she just sees me as a little worm that she has to restrain herself from stepping on because without me she wouldn't be earning the unbelievable amount that she does. But then, I suppose, if I was stepped on then I wouldn't be here would I? I'd just be a smudge on the sidewalk…getting trampled all over by the sheep. Following their fucking leader…

I swear and jump to my feet as ash drops from the glowing cigarette and lands on my knee. Jesus…the whole world is against me, isn't it? Damn…now the thing's burnt to the stub. What the fuck did I do with the packet? I glance around in a half-hearted search, trying to ignore the sudden and inescapable tightness in my chest. Just keep it where it is. It has no business bursting out…look for the fucking packet Yamato. Just find your cigarettes and it'll all be okay. Only…it won't. It won't be okay and I know it. They aren't going to do anything but make my hair stink. Fuck, what have I done to myself? Look at me…just look…

God, I can't do this anymore! I want…I want…I don't even know what I want! I can't breathe…I can't…I feel like I have to cry…not cry a few tears, but throw my head back and scream, to just get this out of me…somehow…anyhow…is that even a real word?! I choke on my laughter, my throat seeming to close around the sound, seizing it and holding it there, keeping it inside…keeping everything inside. My breath is coming in throaty rasps; my face twisted with emotion…what is this? A panic attack? Anxiety attack? Heart attack? Heart attack…God, I hope it's that one. It's over. I can't do this anymore…but it doesn't matter, I won't have to. And it won't be suicide either. I can see tomorrow's headlines now. It could be over…if it's…shit, it's stopped. It's stopped! It can't do that! I'm dying of a heart attack, dammit! 

I'm on my knees on the floor now, my fingers clutching at the thick shag, nails biting through the creamy strands. And my eyes are wet, my cheeks damp. With…what? Tears? Sweat? Both? I don't care…I don't know what I want…

Well that's a lie, isn't it? I know exactly what I want. I want to go home. I want Taichi. I want my brother. I want my Dad. I want…my life. I want my life back. Was that there in the fine print or something? Did I miss it? 'By the signing of this contract you agree to relinquish your life and all connections and turn yourself over completely to the less-than-capable hands of your designated bimbo bitch of a manager' Did the rest of the band have to sign themselves over too? Or is it just me? Who cares. Who really gives a fuck? I've got to get out of here. I've got to do something…

Before I know quite what I'm doing, my hands are in my suitcase, shoving aside shirts and underwear. I never unpack. Pointless. You leave as soon as you get somewhere. Easier to just keep everything in the case. My hand seeks out and grips one of the pill bottles. Not the aspirin. Not the stuff to make me sleep. Not the anti-depressants with a name I can hardly pronounce…the other one. The one that should never have made it through customs. I wish it hadn't. I think I wanted to be caught. It would have been another easy way out, wouldn't it? Yeah…I'm sure I would have been too if it hadn't been for all the fans and the screaming and pushing. The poor guys would have been lucky to notice if I'd been carrying a neon glowing air rifle. I guess that's just the way it works though…probably another part of the fine print. I pull off the lid with a satisfying crack and tip a pill into my hand. It's perfect. Perfectly round and immaculately white with a smooth flawless surface…perfect. I feel a thrill of relief and anticipation just holding it here in my hand. This is it. This tiny little fusion of medicine and miscellaneous toxins. This is the answer. Perhaps not a permanent one, but it'll see me through until morning. And then something else will come up to get me through that day, and then the next and the next. It always does. And besides, there's always the chance that this tiny little thing will kill me. Or if it doesn't, I might overdose myself. I'll be the next River Phoenix. God, how exciting! And everyone will come to my funeral and say what a waste it was. Missy and the band will look sad and pretend to care, Yutaka and Leslie will look sad and actually care. And my family will cry and TK…God, TK. 

That's the other thing. That's the reason my brains aren't already splattered on the sidewalk out there. I spoke to him…about a month ago (has it really been that long?) and he could obviously tell that something wasn't right. Just before we hung up, he said to me, "However bad it seems 'niichan…don't do it. It's not worth it…I'd miss you too much. Remember that when you're too stubborn to listen to anything else. Okay? Speak to you soon. Bye." Yes, Takeru…okay. I wouldn't want to leave him. At least without saying goodbye. And I suppose there's always the chance that Tai will…fuck, I've been dancing around this all afternoon haven't I? And I guess you all want to know…not that it's actually that interesting. But I'll tell you. I'll tell you, then I'll get stoned, fall asleep and it won't matter anymore.

Three months. That's how long it lasted. The eternal, idyllically romantic relationship that lasted three months. Three fucking months. That's nothing. Of course, it's probably the longest relationship I've ever had, but then I've never really been one for relationships. It was about two years ago now. Two years…that's how long it's been since I've seen him. I miss him so much. Even if I did end our romantic relationship, he's still my best friend and I still need him to keep going. I can hang on, but not forever. It's like someone's snatched away one of my lungs and left me to deal. It's hard.

Anyway…two years ago. We were roommates in university. And this one night he came home early from a date having called her 'Yamato' – I think that's just about the funniest thing I've ever heard – and he talked me into getting pissed just as we always did. That's what we'd do whenever the world got too much. Sit in front of the TV, get drunk and talk about everything. I miss our 'chats under the influence'. You could always speak more truthfully, more openly when you were pissed. I thought my girlfriend was cheating on me, turns out she was, and so we were both a little down and you know how one thing leads to another… 

Oh come on, I don't need to explain that now, do I?! You know as well as I do what happened. But…okay, fine…we fucked. We fucked each other's brains out. Does that make it clear enough? He told me he loved me and the next morning I told him the same. It was probably stupid. I mean, sure we'd been drinking, but by that time we were both sober enough to know exactly what we were doing. It wasn't a mistake though. I thought it might be at the time, but it wasn't. It was the most right decision I've ever made, those three little words. I meant it. I really did. I expect he thinks I didn't. That he was just a cheap drunken fuck, nothing more. You weren't Taichi…I meant it…

You meant it? You meant it?! Well you did a fucking good job of showing it then, didn't you Yamato? Walking out on him…nice one. Great move. Just another blinding flash of intelligence. Idiot.

Afterwards, we had three months together. Inseparable, joined at the hip, doing all that couple-y stuff that you do when you fall in love for the first time. It was wonderful…the best three months of my life. I haven't felt that happy for two years now. The two years we've been apart. That's what I loved him for. You couldn't be depressed around Taichi. He could always cheer you up and make it better, no matter how bad things got. He'd talk to you and laugh and his eyes would glow with sunshine, even on a cloudy day. That's why I need him now. I need him so bad…

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you, so don't take my sunshine away… 

Funny how old songs always stay with you like that, isn't it? So much more lasting than the new stuff. And I'm part of the new stuff. But…people will never remember my music in the way that they remember the Beatles or Cher now, will they? I shake my head…what a pointless thought that was. Perhaps I don't need this fucking pill to be stoned. 

When Missy came to one of our gigs ('talent spotting, darhhling!') and offered us a recording contract, naturally I jumped at the chance. My break! I'd finally got the big break that everyone dies for. But…it meant dropping out of university, travelling to New York that weekend and then 'seeing where it takes us', direct Missy quote. Taichi understood of course. I know he didn't want me to go, but he was happy for me and made a real effort to be as helpful as he could possibly be. It all just went down hill after that. I hardly had time to visit my family, let alone maintain a lasting relationship. I should just have said no. Not that Missy has ever taken no for an answer in her life, but hey, it might have worked. I could have made a non violent protest against it. Like all the Eco-warriors who chain themselves to trees and stuff. Yeah. I should have handcuffed myself to Tai (only tried really hard to remember where I put the key. Unlike last time…) and sung 'Kum By Yah' repeatedly until they all ran away screaming with their hands over their ears. God that song really gets stuck in your head, doesn't it? Shit, now I'm going to be singing it all night.

So…that was it. I went, he stayed. We tried to keep in touch, but it's hard when your manager keeps springing interviews and photo shoots on you with no more than a few hours notice. I never know quite where I'm going to be from week to week. Missy never bothers to tell me until it's too late. Evil bitch. She does it on purpose, I swear.

He completed his course in BA Management Studies at University and was working for some firm in Tokyo not long after I left. The last I heard from him wasn't even from him. It was a message given to me via TK. His company had offered him a transfer here, to London and he'd accepted. His English is good and he's got a natural flair for bossing people about, I suppose that's why he was picked. But that's all I know. 

It's the weirdest thing. How we just suddenly got cut off from each other like that. Like a piece of string being cut in half. We went from being lovers to being as good as strangers in a matter of weeks. I sigh self-pityingly. If only I could just talk to him for a little while. I'm sure he'd have some amazingly perfect solution, so simple that I could never have hoped to see it. I don't have his number, though. Takeru gave me his address but in yet another blinding flash of intelligence (I seem to be so full of them. What did they _teach_ me in school?) I didn't bother to ask for the number. How pointless was that? Which is more likely, me calling him or me turning up on his doorstep halfway across the world? What, did TK have some weird notion that I was suddenly really into letter writing or something? Did I accidentally say that in an interview? Probably. It's so weird, whenever I'm being interviewed by some smiley journalist or preppy presenter I get this insurmountable urge to lie. I don't know why. I just say kind of…random things for no reason. 'Just call me Kate!' says that it is a subconscious desire to protect myself and to prevent anyone from finding out too much about me. Huh.

What the hell was I talking about again? Letters. No, why would I be talking about letters? Argh. Get it together Yamato. Okay…Tai. Addresses…phone numbers…I wish I could call him. I wish I…

London. Jesus…London! I'm in London, aren't I? I'm not just so screwed in the head now that I got moved to Timbuktu without noticing am I? Not bloody likely. Not yet anyway. So, I'm in London, Tai's in London…

Would it be imposing? Well obviously it would be, but I'm sure he wouldn't care. That's it, yes! Tai will help me. I'll stay with him for a couple of days – just as friends of course – and he'll be able to make things better! I feel an irrational surge of happiness and I jump to my feet so fast that I have to grab the bed to keep from falling over. It's all solved! Everything's solved. It'll all be okay! 

I've lost the pill. It's been absorbed into the ridiculously thick shag carpet, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because I've got a whole fucking bottle in my case and (how many times have I used the word 'fucking' tonight? I think it's becoming my favourite word…) I won't need them anymore anyway. Now. Getting out. This is going to be like breaking out of a maximum security prison. Or an insane asylum. That sounds more realistic. I lift the corner of the curtain and it's dark out. When did that happen? Did I pass out? Is that where the pill went? Shit, if it's dark then Missy will probably turn up soon. She always comes in the evening to ramble about crap that I don't care about. I never listen. In fact…that's probably why I never have a clue what I'm supposed to be doing from one day to the next. I close my suitcase, still lying dishevelled on the floor, and cross the room, feeling like I'm in Mission Impossible, and open the door. I peer round the doorframe and scan the corridor outside.

"Yutaka?" I whisper, which is pointless because there's nobody around to hear.

"Yeah?" He grunts from behind me, making me jump. His voice is so damn scary.

"I'm leaving." I say in the same hushed voice, that I have no idea why I'm using. He simply raises an eyebrow. "I've just…I've really got to get out of here." I might be an insane drug addict but I'm not stupid. There's no way I'm going wandering around out there on my own. If anyone recognised me I'd be completely screwed.

"What do you need?" He says gruffly, obviously assuming that I want more cigarettes or something.

"I need to get out!" I say a bit too loudly and then lower my voice again. "It's…you know I'm not doing so good and…I've got this…friend…who lives around here and I thought it'd do me good to go visit him for a while. Just to, I don't know, get away from everything." He looks at me with that sceptical 'I know you're a druggie and you're not making sense again' look that seems to be becoming more and more frequent these days.

"Yamato…" He starts, in a tone that reminds me painfully of my father.

"Please!" I hiss desperately. "If I have to go through another day of smiling idiotically and pretending to care then I am going to blow my fucking brains out tomorrow!" I scowl "Right after I kill Missy." There's the barest trace of a smile on his face "You wouldn't want me to do that now, would you?" I ask sweetly and he snorts.

"I don't know…if it meant not having to listen to that whiny bitch anymore…" Fuck, this is backfiring. Now he's trying to get me off the subject and into anti-Missy-rant mode.

"Yutaka, c'mon please! I'm serious. Either help me or I'm going alone." I say, knowing perfectly well that if he doesn't want me to leave, then I am not getting through this door. You should see how BIG this guy is…

He sighs and glances over his shoulder. "Yamato, just go have a lie down or something, eh?" He starts in pacifying tones, "You'll feel better if you…"

"No! No, I won't!" I yell and he frowns like a parent dealing with teenager that is constantly causing them grief "I won't feel better! Yutaka, don't you get it? I need help! Kate used to pour all that 'the first step on the way to healing is admitting that you have a problem' shit down my throat and now here I am, admitting it. My life is fucked! Now help me. Please…you have to…I…" I feel like I'm going to cry all of a sudden. Which is out of the question because I can't even remember the last time someone saw me cry. He's noticed and is still frowning paternally at me. 

"Yamato," He starts again, but this time he sounds sympathetic, pitying, "Now, look…" I don't want his pity. I don't want anyone's pity.

"Fine." I cut him of sharply, swallowing hard. "I'll have a lie down. But when Missy comes, I'm not talking to her." I make to close the door. "Oh, and just so you know," I add "I've got enough drugs in here to overdose myself ten times over. Don't try to hard to wake me in the morning, will you?" and shut the door more forcefully than I needed to. I can hear his voice muttering my name in that disapproving 'don't be silly, let's talk about it' way that I can't stand. I sit on the bed and fold my arms across my chest, staring sulkily at my suitcase. Now what? Oh yeah. Lie down. 

It can only have been about ten minutes when there's a knock at the door. I'm going to ignore it. I'll just sit here and pretend I can't hear. They're knocking again. Louder. Well I don't care. If it's Missy she can just go fuck herself because I am staying here in this room until…well, I'm not sure really, until I get bored and break my promise to TK, I suppose.

"Yamato?!" Yutaka's voice. He sounds kind of panicky…huh. He thinks he has problems. I move to let him in, simply for lack of anything better to do.

I nearly get punched in the face as I open the door.

"Oh, sorry," He says breathlessly, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. I hate when people look at me. Which is actually very funny considering my chosen profession. "You okay?"

"Yes." I say, wondering why he sounds so…suspicious…concerned…weird. "Why?" Look, I can sound suspicious too. 

"I thought you might have…you know…" He mutters and then glares at me. "Answer your fucking door when people knock!" I glare back, unfazed, saying nothing. "Anyway…" He sighs and meets my eyes only to look away again, "I was thinking…if you want to see your friend then you should be able to and…yeah, Yamato, I'll help you," I smile "But don't say I never do anything for you!" He adds as I step aside letting him into the room. I've got the address on the piece of paper torn from my address book. He seizes the case as if it weighed nothing. "Let's go before Missy comes, eh? I'll cover for you once I get back." He steps out the door and strides off down the hall, leaving me to follow.

"Alright…" I say, knowing that Yutaka hates gratitude of any kind, "but I can carry my own case." I glance pointedly at the case swinging in his grasp.

"I know." He says, smiling fondly and making no move to stop carrying the suitcase or even slow his steps. I feel my eyebrows draw together and I turn my attention to walking, which generally becomes more difficult when you've been drinking. 

Soon we're out of the extravagance and onto the lamp-lit street. I can feel cool, silky raindrops steadily brushing at my skin as walk with Yutaka in aimiable silence. Now I'm little more than one of the following sheep. I frown at the scrap of paper in my hand. I just hope I've got the leader's fucking address right.

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A/N: Ah…huh. Why do these things never work like they're supposed to? And why can I never get Matt's character right? Never mind. Review if you want me to continue. I actually…have no idea where this is going so ideas would be helpful. Should I write the next part from Tai's point of view? Should I write a next part at all? Help!


	2. Pot Plants and Cyclones

London Rain

London Rain

****

Part Two

~Natsu~

A/N: My exams are finally finished! THANK GOD!!! So…now I have a whole summer to waste and I'm going to be able to write a lot more. Anyway…second part. The majority of people who reviewed wanted me to keep this part in Matt's POV, so that's what I'm doing. I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen so please ignore any huge gaping plotholes and try not to hold it against me too much, okay? Ta very much. Ooh, and thanks to whoever made that Clouds documentary that was on BBC 2 a few weeks ago for the help and ideas it provided. Nice one. And I've also noticed that this fic keeps trying to turn into some twisted version of Notting Hill. Oh dear. 

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The door's red. With a little brass knocking thing and matching numbers. 42. I stare up at the building through the petering rain. It looks like a cross between a house and an apartment…I'm not quite sure what you'd call it. Housment, maybe. There's two empty glass milk bottles standing on the doorstep, flanked by a pot plant with little yellow flowers. Pot plant…everything looks so nice and homey and…it just seems to scream 'happy family'. 

What the hell am I doing here? What if he's married now? And just never told me. What if he doesn't recognise me? What if…

I have a sudden urge to turn round and run away. And pretend that I never even thought of coming here. I glance over my shoulder and Yutaka's blocking my escape, watching expectantly, waiting for me to knock. Oh God…this is it…here we go. I raise my hand to knock.

I don't know why I'm so nervous. He's my friend. He's Tai. Why would I be nervous to see Tai? I should be happy to be able to see him again. It can be just like old times. We'll have the morning competition to see who can get ready fastest after the alarm clocks have been ignored and I'll lose as usual, even after I've been awarded extra time because my hair is rebelling. We'll spend the day apart and eat together in the evening, order a pizza or something if I can't be bothered to cook, and bitch about our days. Then get pissed in front of the TV. Get pissed and fuck. 

Actually…maybe that one isn't such a good tradition to keep. The last thing I want is for something like that to happen. We're broken up and staying that way. Yes. 

The knocker makes a satisfying clunking noise of metal against metal and I wait patiently, unconsciously fiddling with the sleeve of my coat. Yutaka sighs behind me, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. There's water in the milk bottles…I bet the pot plant likes all this rain…why hadn't he answered yet? Fuck, maybe he's not in. That would sure suck. I'd have to go back and…no, wait, I can hear noises. He's opening the door. Oh God I don't want to do this anymore. I want to go back to my extravagant hotel room and order as much as I can from room service. And Missy will have to pay for it all. Hehe…

And then the door's gaping at me, and I'm standing trying to focus on the achingly familiar figure holding the door. He's staring at me, not saying anything, a multitude of confused emotions flickering across his face. Time seems to have paused, the rain drops frozen in the air, my breath caught in my throat, the pot plant looking on…

Then all at once it's broken as a casual "Hi," slips from my mouth accompanied by a false, easy smile that I've perfected for the camera. I might as well be watching myself act, I feel so detached. Why am I using the camera smile? It's like seeing a movie and sitting helplessly as your favourite character takes the gun and blows their brains out. 

"Oh." He says, obviously the first word his brain supplied, then shakes his head. "Hi."

He's giving me the strangest look…not quite confusion, not quite disbelief…more as though I've just performed some gravity defying feat that he knows couldn't possibly happen, but can't deny that he's seen it.

When he doesn't make a move I hear myself asking "Can I come in?" in the pleasant interview voice.

"Um…ye..yeah, yeah, of course. Yes, come in. Yeah." He mutters, sounding disorientated as he steps aside and I walk through the red door, followed by Yutaka. The inside of the house matches the outside. Friendly, tidy and with an unmistakable splash of feminine class. I feel a frown tugging at my features but it'll take more than that to shift the patented camera smile. 

"So…" He starts uneasily as we all stand awkwardly in the hallway waiting for someone else to speak.

"So," I return, glancing down the hallway and expecting some upper class British woman to appear from nowhere. 'Well, aren't you going to introduce me darling?' She'll say coyly, attaching herself to Taichi's arm. Oh God, or worse, she'll be carrying a little kid with her nose and his eyes, cooing affectionately, 'Shall we go and say hello to Daddy's friends? Shall we?' And he'll smile affectionately and I'll be invited for afternoon tea or whatever and that'll be the end of everything and I'll have to go back to the hotel and marry Leslie or be alone for the rest of my life.

Yutaka coughs and I snap back to what's actually happening in real life to see my mobster-look-alike bodyguard shift uncomfortably under Taichi's suspicious gaze. Fuck, didn't introduce them. First rules of etiquette out the window.

"Oh, Taichi, this is Yutaka, my bodyguard. Yutaka, Taichi." I say as standard, waving my hand in the respective directions.

"Nice to meet you." Yutaka says gruffly, holding a hand out to Taichi, which he shakes politely.

"Yes…you too. Bodyguard, huh? Wow, I thought that maybe…" I notice for the first time that Taichi's voice is edged by a faint whisper of a British accent as he trails off, leaving the thought unfinished. He recovers with a brisk "Never mind. So…hey, it's great to see you again Yamato." He says with a grin as plastic as mine. It's so weird to hear him call me by my full name

"Yeah." Why can't I think of anything to say to him? I realise suddenly that it's my place to talk since I was the one that turned up unexpectedly on his doorstep. "I was…uh…in the neighbourhood, I guess, and Takeru gave me your address so I just thought I'd stop by and say hi," I say.

"Oh. Right. Well…do you want to come in?" He says conversationally, gesturing down the hallway. I decide not to point out that we already are 'in', knowing what he means. I'm about to agree when Yutaka coughs again.

"I…er…better get back. Missy will be missing you and…yeah," he pauses "I'll see you soon then, Yamato." 

"Yeah."

"Call me if…you know, you need anything. Uh…yes. Well. Nice to meet you Taichi." He says, turning back to the door with mild paternal sadness. 

"Yutaka?" I start, feeling as though I owe him the world. Which I do. "Thanks. A lot." 

He just nods.

*********

It takes me a while to remember where I am when I wake up the next morning. After I explained how fucked everything in my life was, Taichi hesitantly agreed to let me stay for as long as I needed to. The 'guestroom' is as immaculately clean as everything else in this house, including Taichi's personality. He might as well be a completely different person. All last night, he didn't make one insulting comment, one dirty joke; he just…talked politely as if his mother was watching disapprovingly over his shoulder. I am utterly unimpressed. Where was the fire? Where was the passion? Where was everything that was Taichi? Perhaps I was just remembering a him that doesn't exist. Perhaps this is what he's always been like. I shake my head. What a pile of crap that is. I know Tai and I know that that wasn't him.

Shit, that light is so bright. And my stomach is churning. This is like the hangover of the century. Withdrawal symptoms, I guess. I swing my leg over the edge of the bed, reeling at the monstrous effect that it has on the tangled mess of my nerves. There's a mirror across the room. Perhaps if I aim for that I have a chance of not falling flat on my face. I stumble the few challenging feet to the mirror, grabbing the edge of the dresser in front of it and peer into the spotless glass. It feels like a tractor has been running repeatedly over my head…which would explain the current state of my hair. I look terrible. Terrible, terrible, terrible. My skin is even paler than usual, and my eyes are dull with deep purple smudges hung beneath. Did these pyjamas get bigger or am I really that thin now? I look like an anorexic teenager. I feel terrible too…I don't even know what day it is today.

No wonder Yutaka and everyone was so worried. 

I sigh, glancing around for a clock. It's 11am. I should probably eat something. I wince as my stomach alerts me that eating would be a pointless exercise. All I want to do is curl up under the bedclothes, away from the sunlight and the incessant noise of the birds. I'm contemplating doing just that when there's a hesitant knock at the door before Taichi's head appears.

"Oh, you're up. Um…" He starts uncertainly, glancing around the room as if he expects to see empty vodka bottles and burnt down joints strewn all over the place. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Coffee would be good." I answer, trying to sound as normal as possible and flatten my hair at the same time.

"Right. Coffee." He says, then disappears again.

Christ…hmm, I wonder where the bathroom is?

* * * * * * * * * 

Sunday. Today is Sunday, according to Taichi. I'm looking vaguely more presentable now. Or at least…my hair is under control and I'm wearing clothes that actually fit. Big step up. 

This coffee is doing wonders for my head as well. I sip it appreciatively, taking in the kitchen around me. The walls are buttery yellow and there's oak and fresh, herbs everywhere. It's obviously a girl's kitchen. Just…minus the girl. I ponder this for a moment.

"Tai?" I ask finally.

"Mmm?" He's reading the newspaper. Well, the sports page of the newspaper.

"Did you decorate everything yourself?" 

He looks up. "God, no. That was Marie." 

"Oh." Marie? Well that explains it. Not that I care what her name is of course. We're just friends.

"Marie lives next door," he says pointedly, "She's married." 

"Oh." I say again, trying to sound uninterested. As if I care. There's an awkward pause then…

"Who's Missy?" He blurts suddenly and I blink. 

"My manager. Why?" 

"No reason. Just…" He says with visible relief. "Just wondering." He couldn't really have thought…Missy and me? God that's a funny thought. I'm picturing her dressed like Bride Barbie with white lace and pink ribbon everywhere, happy little forest creatures scampering around her feet, when the phone rings and Taichi gets up to answer it. Then maybe one of the forest creatures will bite her or shit on her foot or something.

"Hello?"

Yeah…or maybe they'll all bite her at once. Go for the throat.

"I'm fine…what?" 

Then the headlines would be all "Yamato Ishida's bride-to-be savaged by gopher" and there'd be special TV documentaries, "Can we really trust small mammals?" And parents would be afraid to let their kids leave the house and there'd be gopher patrols in every neighbourhood…

"No he's…it's just…" Taichi's saying glancing at me as I make a valiant attempt to wipe the incriminating smirk from my face, "he's just a friend." Pause. "Well…sure, I guess so. I don't think…" He frowns, takes the phone from his ear and stares at it before hanging it up again. 

"Um…that was Marie. She's just coming over to say hi. Is that okay? She's really nice, you'll like her." He tells me in a rush as if I'm going to throw a tantrum and refuse to meet her.

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Oh good." He says and almost immediately I hear the door open.

"Hello?" Calls a cheerful London voice as a middle-aged woman with hap-hazard red hair bustles into the kitchen.

"Hi Marie." Taichi says with a somewhat apologetic glance in my direction.

"Alright love?" She kisses Tai's cheek in a motherly kind of way before turning sharp green eyes to me. "And you are…" 

"Yamato. It's nice to meet you."

"Oh fuck, Yamato from the television. And the radio. And…oh fuck." She says. Hmm, never heard that one before.

"Um…yeah."

She smacks Taichi's arm in what was probably supposed to be a friendly way. Looked kinda hard though…but who am I to question British culture. "You said it was just a friend!" 

"He is." Taichi replies sulkily.

"Well…honestly." She huffs, rolling her eyes at me and sitting at the table as if she lives here. "Wouldn't mind a nice cuppa," She says to Tai, who frowns and turns to fill the kettle. "So. So, so, so…what brings you to London?" She asks me excitedly. 

"Oh…we're supposed to be doing a concert but…"

"But…"

"But, I've sort of run away so…well, they can't do it without me and…"

"Nice one. I guess they'll have everyone looking for you and everything, huh?" She asks grinning mischievously and I feel myself warming to her instantly.

"Yeah, probably."

"Gosh, I've always wanted to do something rebellious like that…ta, love," she thanks Taichi, accepting the cup of tea and setting it down in front of her. "Mmm," She murmurs, as if agreeing with something I've just said, "But I don't think Bertie would be overly impressed if I did…"

"Her husband," Taichi supplies, pulling out another chair since Marie has taken his.

"Anywho. You're quiet today m'dear. Where's the sugar…ah…" I watch with fascination as she stirs an unhealthy amount of sugar into her tea and sips it greedily. Taichi sighs audibly.

"I'm just tired, I guess," 

She snorts, skilfully managing to do it without spraying tea everywhere. "Bollocks. What have you been doing to make you tired? It's Sunday for Christ's sake. Unless…" She shoots a wicked glance in my direction, "Taichi, I thought you said he was just a friend…"

His eyes widen amusingly as she chuckles away into her teacup.

"No, it's nothing like that." I assure her, and I'm proud of how calm I keep my voice. 

"Yes well…come on love!" She's speaking to Tai again. "Where's my firey Taichi, hmm? How do you expect me to relive my lost youth through you if you turn into a wet blanket on me?"

God, I love this woman. Go on Tai, answer her. Where's the 'firey Taichi' we all know and love?

"I'm not turning to into a wet blanket…it's just…oh, I don't know."

She tilts her head, frowning with concern. "You're not going strange again, are you? Because I'll call Alice. I will."

"I'm fine Marie." He pouts, glaring at her while she tuts away.

"And Alice would be…" I ask, wondering if I have another name to panic about. Or…not panic about. Because I don't care.

"A friend," Taichi says as Marie informs me,

"She was his therapist. Lovely girl. Could do with a bit of meat on her, but she was a real sweetie…lovely." 

"You had a therapist?" I ask before I can stop myself, but Marie keeps talking so it doesn't seem to matter.

"I wonder how she's getting on…old Alice. Might give her a ring just to catch up…what do you think, Taichi? We could have a barbecue and have Alice round. And what's-his-face from down the road. You know…Mr.thingy. With all the cats."

"I…it's kind of cold for barbecues, isn't it?"

"Nonsense. It'll be like Guy Fawkes night. Must remember to tell Bertie…sorry, did you say something?" She's asking me suddenly, while I'm still trying to work out what she's just said about cats and barbecues.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, would you listen to that? 'Sorry'. Don't hear much of that from youth today, do you? All we ever get out of you is…"

"Marie…" Taichi starts wearily

"Sorry love, showing my age again, aren't I?" She grins sheepishly, "What were we talking about? Barbecues…yes. Oh no! Alice. Yamato was asking about Alice!" She says triumphantly, patting my arm for emphasis.

"Was I?"

"Yes," She says firmly, turning to Taichi.

"What?" 

"Tell Yamato about Alice."

He shrugs. "There's not much to tell…she's a friend of Marie's and I was having trouble dealing with work…and stuff." He says, glancing at me. Oh fantastic. I guess 'and stuff' translates to being me. Way to make me feel guilty.

"Mmm…" Marie's murmuring again, "Did him wonders, she did. Oh Jesus…look at the time!" She cries suddenly, bolting up from her seat, "Bertie's brother's coming for Sunday roast and the chicken's not even in the oven yet. Sorry love, better run. I'll speak to you tomorrow. Go ahead and give Alice a call for me, won't you? Nice to meet you, Yamato." She rushes out in confusing cyclone of smiles and frizzy hair, leaving the two of us sitting, windswept and stunned, at the kitchen table.

"That's Marie," Taichi says after a moment, with a trace of his old smile as he reaches for his coffee. I nod, trying to think of something to say.

"Mmm…" He's murmuring like Marie now. God help him. "Look at the rain…" He says, looking out the window in an attempt to get us through the silence.

"Oh yes. It's…bad." And the prize for conversation goes to…

"We get a lot of rain here."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm…It has to do with…" He pauses, thinking, "um…yes."

"Right."

"Yeah…"

"So…" Fuck, I need a cigarette. 

"So…you know what?" He asks suddenly.

"What?" I answer intelligently.

"This is stupid." I raise an eyebrow and he adds, "I mean, we're still friends…right?" I nod, alarmed by the uncertain tone of his voice.

"Of course. There's absolutely no reason why we can't just pick up where we left off. Before…everything." 

He blinks. Wait…that sounded a bit…

"I mean before we…you know, not before I…well…" I say, flustered.

"I know what you mean." He says with a grin. "We're friends."

"Yes. And it's not like anything's going to happen." Oh wait…what if that's not what he thinks? 

"No." He sips his coffee. 

"No." I echo, turning my attention to my own cup.

He sighs and looks up. "So. How have you been then?" he asks in a voice that suddenly sounds like his own, and I give him my best withering look. "I mean apart from the whole being a suicidal druggie thing," He adds, smirking.

"Apart from that? Um…" I start mock-thoughtfully, "Still crap." He rolls his eyes.

"It can't be that bad. You're famous! It must be fucking sweet…"

"It's not." I say darkly. Of all the subjects not to get me onto…

He tilts his head, studying me and asks, "That bad huh?" I'm always amazed how he can read me exactly simply from the way I say two words.

"Yeah." 

He frowns. "Why?"

I suck in a sharp breath and let it out again. "Can we not talk about this now, please?" I say, avoiding his eyes and he drops it instantly.

"Sure. Of course. You know…you won't like me saying this, but…"

"What?"

"Well maybe you should talk to Alice." I almost laugh out loud. Oh yeah, because the last therapist was so helpful.

"I…don't get on too well with shrinks, Tai."

"She's not a shrink. She's really nice," He says encouragingly, "Just meet her once and if it goes really crap then you don't have to see her ever again."

I frown.

"Come on Yama, what do you say? Do it for me?" He asks innocently and his eyes add 'because you owe me fucking big time and you know it'.

I do know it. I sigh defeatedly. "Alright. But only once. I'm holding you to that."

He holds up his hands. "Fine, fine. I'll call her now, shall I? I have to work tomorrow, so she can probably see you then." Tomorrow? Do I have to?

"Won't she have other appointments?" I ask feebly and he grins secretively.

"Oh she'll make time for you. Trust me."

I'm trying to work out just exactly what that's supposed to mean, and desperately hoping that she's not a fan as he's picking up the and punching in the number.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

A/N: So…that would make Matt Julia Roberts. *snickers* Sorry if that was a bit short. I didn't want to go into Alice yet because that's gonna be a long one. Have to wait till next time. How will you ever survive? 

Reviews would be nice. ^^


	3. Pigeons and Custard Creams

London Rain

London Rain

Part three

~Natsu~

A/N: Oh dear God, I'm actually getting round to continuing this. I can't remember ever having so much free time before! It rocks. Thanks for all the encouraging reviews I've been getting, people. It's a real ego-boost. ^^ Anyway…I really don't know where this part is going. I think I might try to work the Notting Hill problem in so that it looks like I planned it that way. Um…I guess that's it really. Except to say that…I have nothing against pigeons really and…Custard Creams are the best. Yummy. ^^

Thanks to Atsuko for giving me the idea of using Sumi's name for one of the band members! 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

I wake to the sound of birds shrieking and squawking all over the place. I've never noticed quite how high-pitched and irritating birds are. God…the noise is incessant. And why exactly are there so many birds in a huge city like London anyway? You think they'd be eaten by all those huge monster pigeons waddling around everywhere or something. I mean, God, those things are HUGE. You'd think that they'd have to scrape together just to make ends meet, but no. People should stop feeding them. Even if that is impossible. They all congregate around the bench you're sitting on, innocently eating your sandwich and stare. And stare. And stare, until you find yourself screaming blue murder and hurling the sandwich into the awaiting flock just to make them leave you alone. Personally I think that the little kids that run around trying to step on them have the right idea.

I sigh, realising that the only way to save my throbbing head from the noise is to actually get out of bed. Easier said than done. Maybe withdrawal symptoms get progressively worse. 

Or maybe it's worse because I hadn't been able to sleep last night panicking about meeting Alice. It's the most ridiculous thing ever. I'm scared to meet this woman…I don't even know why really. I guess it's because I'm going to have to open up to her. I hate doing that. And I can't just clam up and ignore her like I did with Just Call Me Kate because Tai asked me to do it for him. Damn Tai. If he'd said something like 'do it for yourself', that would have been okay. 'Do it for Missy', 'Do it for your parents'. But no. Do it for him. 

I take a shower once I've finally managed to work the damn thing. You have to turn it towards the blue to make it hot and the red to make it cold. How stupid is that? Trust Tai to have a malfunctioning shower and not tell me. He's already left when I pad into the kitchen, but Marie's there for some inexplicable reason, bustling around the kitchen.

"Morning love," She says cheerfully, "Sleep well?"

"Um…yes, thanks." Not true but less hassle.

"Good, good. Shower catch you out?" She eyes my damp hair, her hands still submerged in a sink full of froth.

"Yeah." What the hell is she doing here?

"Never mind. There's toast on the table. I can't be arsed to cook anything today. Bad for you anyway…although…" she turns around smirking, drying her hands on a tea towel, "you look like you could use a nice bit of lard. We'll have a full English breakfast tomorrow. Yes. That'll be nice. I guess you're wondering what I'm doing here."

"Oh…" She's continuing before I can form an answer.

"I work as Taichi's housekeeper. You think he could keep this place on his own?"

"Well I…"

"I'm nearly done in here now. Then I'll leave you in peace and go make the beds." She sighs. "I don't know…all go, isn't it?"

"I guess so, yes."

"I saw your group on the telly last night."

"Oh?" I sit down at the table, pulling a piece of toast out of the metal toast holding thing. I hope they were going mad. 

"Didn't look too happy, they didn't."

"Good." I say before I can stop myself and Marie looks at me with a half smile.

"The blonde girl was telling the press that you're ill."

Poor Missy. "Oh really?"

"You're lucky they don't know where you are you know. You probably don't want Tai opening the door to the press half-dressed." She smirks.

"What?" 

"Don't look so shocked," She laughs, "It'd be like Hugh Grant in 'Notting Hill', wouldn't it?"

I tilt my head, imagining Tai with Hugh Grant hair. My God, that's funny. I can't stop the laughter breaking out and in seconds I'm in hysterics, Marie quick to follow.

"Guess you're getting better already. They say laughter is the best cure," She grins after composing herself. She has one of those loud, hearty laughs that is always contagious. "You should laugh more, love. You have a nice laugh. Easy on the ears. Well, better get upstairs. Those beds won't make themselves." And with that, she's wandering off, leaving me alone in the kitchen, still grinning moronically. 

* * * * * * *

Later that afternoon I'm sitting rigidly in the living room, wondering if I should be saying anything. I can tell already that this is going to go horribly. If she was Tai's therapist, no doubt she knows all about me from him and she probably sees me as some cold-hearted, self-obsessed bastard. Plus there's the whole fact that I'm famous and I'm panicking that she's going to sell out to the press on everything I tell her. And as if that wasn't enough, my hair has dried into a strange scary shape because I forgot to do anything to it. So now in her eyes, I look like an evil, selfish rock star with a dollar sign slapped on my forehead and incredibly scary hair. Hooray.

I don't want to have to tell her anything.

Despite the fact that Alice and Marie are obviously good friends and probably about the same age, they couldn't look more different. Contrary to Marie's stout, frizzy-haired appearance, Alice is tall and slim with intelligent grey eyes and neat dark hair cut to chin length. She's wearing a simple blue suit with heels and has unnaturally shiny legs. I don't want to do this now. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should stick to my original plan of swallowing as many pills as I can and being remembered as the tragic music hero. Oh…I want a cigarette. Let's throw them all in the bin! Yeah, great idea Yamato.

"Are you nervous?" Alice is asking me. She has a perfectly rounded, stereotypically clear British accent and is studying me intently with those grey eyes. 

"I…no, of course I'm not." I say in a very nervous way.

"It's perfectly normal to be nervous your first time with a new therapist. I expect you think that I'm going to want to know your life history and every personal little detail about you, hmm?" I don't answer and she continues. "Well, that's not the way I operate, Yamato. What we're going to do today is this. I want you to talk to me. About anything at all. Tell me what's on your mind, even if it has absolutely nothing to do with you and your problems." She sits back and waits patiently.

What the hell is this? Talk about anything? What am I supposed to talk about? 

"What's been on your mind today?" She prompts.

What's been on my mind today? Surprisingly little. Toast and who invented the toast holder. Pigeons. What Marie's hair might be made of. How pissed off are each of my band members on a scale of one to ten. Tai with Hugh Grant hair. She's still watching me expectantly…Fuck, better say something. Anything she says, it won't matter what you say. Only she'll probably analyse it to death and say 'I see' in that really disapproving way that the patient is supposed to pick up on without thinking that they're supposed to and... No, we're still not talking, are we? Speak, Yamato! Interview tactics!

I talk about pigeons.

And to my utter shock, she's nodding enthusiastically.

"I hate the things. When I was little, my mum took me to Trafalgar Square to feed them and I just panicked," She waves her hands in a panicky gesture to illustrate her point, "Hate them. Ick. So…what started you thinking about pigeons?" She asks me with a slight smile.

I tell her about the noise of the birds and how much my head was hurting anyway and five minutes later she's got me openly talking about the drug addiction and hardly realising that I'm doing so.

"What made you start, Yamato?" She asks me simply after listening carefully to everything I tell her, and I find that I want to answer honestly. Which is a first. I want to tell the truth and I want her to make things right for me. For some bizarre reason she reminds me of my mother; I just want to fall into her arms and feel safe and loved and understood. And I was never even that close to my mother. 

"I don't know. I wish I could understand it…like, the whole time I knew that it was the wrong thing to be doing, but I just couldn't quite…see any reason not to. Oh, I know that it could've killed me and all that, but that really didn't seem like a good enough reason. I can't explain it."

"Do you think that perhaps you were blocking things out? Things that were too difficult to face up to?"

"Maybe…but I don't really have much to block out…"

"No bad memories? Traumatic experiences?"

I shake my head. There's trauma, but not anything that I look back on and can't face. 

"Hmm…could it simply have been the pressure of being away from familiar faces and surroundings? The stress of your work?"

"I don't know…perhaps."

"That sounds like a 'no' to me." She says. I notice that she hasn't written a single thing down yet. Just Call Me Kate was scribbling frantically in her little pad all through our sessions. It was so distracting.

I sigh. "I think it was partly that but…"

"There was something else."

"Yeah."

"Hmm," she says again, "well, it looks like our hour's just about up, Yamato. We'll leave it there and then we can talk some more tomorrow."

"Okay." Has it been that long already? How much time did I spend prattling about pigeons?

"What I want you to do for me is to think about it tonight. Sit somewhere quiet where the birds can't get you and turn everything over in your mind. I don't expect you to have any shocking revelations, but it always helps to take a closer look at everything. Do you think you can do that?" 

"Sure."

"Alright and also, I want you to go to the kitchen, find something sweet and eat as much of it as you can," she says, then, seeing my confused expression adds, "Comfort food. Always works wonders," and winks as she stands up.

* * * * * * * *

When Tai comes home from work it's to find me sitting placidly at his kitchen table steadily munching my way through a packet of Custard Cream cookies that Marie has given me, while she bustles around fixing dinner.

"Hey. How'd it go?" He asks, running a hand through rain-spattered brown hair and taking a seat at the table.

"Good, actually," I say, through a mouthful of cookie.

"Yeah? Told ya so." He reaches to take a cookie but I pull them away.

"No, these are mine. It's part of the therapy."

"Yeah right. I'm hungry."

"Then you can wait for your meal, Taichi." Marie chips in from behind me as she drains pasta at the sink. I suppress the urge to stick my tongue out in a very childish way and instead very maturely hold the packet out to him.

"Well I suppose I could spare just one…"

He grins and takes one, pulling the two pieces apart to lick the middle out. 

And I can't believe how dirty that sentence sounded.

"Right, here we go," Marie's setting plates in front of us and snatching the cookies away, "I'll see you boys tomorrow. Try to behave, okay?" She says with a grin before leaving us to our meal.

"Bye Marie," Taichi says lazily, already twirling his fork into the spaghetti.

"Yeah, bye," I say, starting on my own food.

We eat in silence for a while, both chewing automatically and not looking anywhere in particular. Taichi eventually breaks the silence.

"So you liked Alice then, huh?"

I nod. Back to small talk, are we? "She seems nice. Easy to talk to."

"Yeah…she is. Are you going to see her again tomorrow?"

"I guess so."

"Good."

Chew, chew, chew…

I hate this silence. It's really unnerving. I think I'll just settle on staring at my dinner. Seems like a good plan. Spaghetti is actually very interesting. It's nice and long and squiggly and…I wonder what those green bits are? Pepper perhaps? Courgette? See, this is working perfectly. Just look at the dinner. I'm sure Tai has the same plan. I'll just look up and see and…oh no, crap he's staring at me. Probably thinks I'm mad because I'm studying the food so intently. Maybe he thinks I'm insulting Marie's cooking in some way. Did he look angry?

I glance up again. 

Um…no. No, that's definitely a different kind of look. Shit. 

I have a sudden strange urge to blush madly and hide under the table. 

Maybe he senses my discomfort because he seems to snap out of whatever worrying kind of trance he was in and says "Have you spoken to what's-his-name? Um…bodyguard guy?"

"Yutaka?" I say, risking meeting his eyes.

"Yeah."

"No…I haven't actually. Do you think I should call him to let him know how I'm getting on?"

"Well it has been three days."

"Yeah…can I do it now?"

"Sure. Phone's right there." He gestures with his fork and I get up and dial with my back to him. What I can't see can't panic me. Not that it should panic me anyway…no, I can follow that confusing chain of thoughts later.

The mobile only rings twice before it's answered and I wait expectantly for Yutaka's familiar gruff voice.

"Yamato?" Oh…dear. Wrong voice…

"Yamato?" Missy repeats menacingly.

"Ah…yeah. Hi Missy…"

"Where the fuck are you?"

"I'm just…with a friend." I turn slightly and Taichi's listening with a frown.

"With a friend or with a 'friend'?" she asks with acidic suspicion. 

"A friend, Missy. Why are you answering Yutaka's phone?"

"Nevermind. Were you actually planning to come back or are we just going to ignore all the concerts that have been scheduled?" She asks too pleasantly.

"Well I…"

"Dammit, Yamato you can't just walk out like this! You have an obligation to be here! You have an obligation to your fans, you have an obligation to the rest of the band and you have an obligation to me!"

"I'm not 'obliged' to do anything for you," I say, feeling the anger start to creep into my voice.

"Oh yes you fucking are. Remember signing a little thing called a contract?"

"I want speak to Yutaka, Missy."

"Not until you tell me where you are."

"I've told you where I am, now put Yutaka on."

"I want to know specifically."

"Tough! Put Yutaka on!"

"No! Where the hell are you?"

"Missy, piss off, I want to speak to Yutaka!" There's muffled voices for a moment and I can pick up Missy's random swear words.

"Hey, Yamato." Says a very dejected Yutaka.

"Hi…how's…well…"

"Everyone's freaking. They all want to know where you are."

"Did you tell them?"

"Of course not."

"Oh…thanks."

"Yeah…we don't know what to tell the papers. They're gonna start making it up if they don't get an answer soon." 

I sigh, dropping my head back against the wall and ignoring Taichi's concerned looks. Why didn't I remember to think about what Yutaka would have to deal with? Missy's barely civil to him at the best of times and now it's going to be worse for him. God, I'm stupid. What, did I think that this wouldn't affect anyone else? And Missy's right, I am letting everyone down. All the fans…they must think I'm a complete jerk. And what about the band? I don't like Koji he's a stuck-up prick. But Sumi and Tomo aren't that bad…in fact when I think about it they're actually pretty decent people. They don't deserve to have to put up with this.

"Maybe I should come back," I say defeatedly into the phone.

"No!" Yutaka and Taichi both cry at once.

I look up at my friend who's glancing around for an excuse as Yutaka continues and I make a huge effort to listen to my bodyguard, temporarily pushing Tai's outburst into a little corner of my mind. "You can't come back now. Not until you're ready," He pauses and lowers his voice, "You're not gonna let her win are you?"

"Well…"

"No, Yamato, I don't think you heard me. You're NOT going to let her win, are you?"

"No. Of course I'm not," 

"I can hold up the fort here a bit longer so take your time, alright?"  


"Yeah…thanks, Yutaka."

"No problem. Well, yeah it is a problem, but I don't mind problems." 

I grin. "Okay…well…bye."

"See ya." The dull sound of the line being disconnected, then the endless beep of the dial tone. I hang up and sit back down at the table.

Taichi's picking carefully through the remains of his meal, avoiding anything that appears vaguely vegetable-shaped.

He's also carefully avoiding looking at me.

Hmm…let's see…ex-lover/childhood friend with whom I have been reunited after two years suddenly bursts out with a passionate and very negative answer to the question of me leaving. Yet we are nothing more than friends (i.e. minimum touching and absolutely no fucking). Must approach the situation carefully.

What are the options? 

Okay…one. Ignore it and pretend I didn't hear. Would work for most situations but here…it'll just piss both of us off. Two. Pass it off as a joke. Could work…very Tai-like option so he'd probably happily go along with it. But if I cross the line with it then I might hurt his feelings. I do have a tendency to trip over the line and go sprawling. Three…make an equally passionate outburst. No. That one's definitely not a safe option. 

"Desperate for me to stay, Tai?" I ask dryly. Oops…mind the line…

He looks up, quirking an eyebrow. 

"Oh, obviously," he returns with a smirk.

"Aha…" I mutter with a smile that felt way too flirtatious. 

He blinks, trying to keep his face straight. "What can I say? I wallow in your company."

"Wallow? What kind of word is that?!"

"What? It's a word."

"Yeah but you don't 'wallow' in someone's company! It makes me think of like, mud and…"

"Mud, huh?" Is that what my smile looks like? Like his? Hope not…you shouldn't really smile at 'just a friend' like that. 

"Yes, mud. And hippopotamuses."

He laughs. "Hippopotamuses? That's…" He's cut off by a rumble of thunder from outside and he glances at the window with mild interest. "Ooh, a storm."

"I like storms." I hear myself say as a camera flash of lightning assaults my eyes through the misty glass of the kitchen window.

"Yeah I know."

"Always makes me think of…" That huge blackout we had when we first got together. What a fun night that was. "…scary movies. And popcorn and stuff." I lie.

"Yeah? Always makes me think of sex." He says casually and I can't help but narrow my eyes. Why do I even bother trying to be tactful and mindful of his feelings? Feelings…huh. 

"Hmm…why do you think that is then?" I ask innocently, "Kind of a weird thing to associate with a storm. Most people associate sex with say…silk sheets. Red wine…black lace…"

"Chocolate syrup…" He adds, grinning. Oh yes, I remember that.

"Handcuffs." I return. Ah, the memories.

"Whips." Ooh, that's a new one.

I laugh. This is completely going down the wrong road. Or so my brain informs me.

"Anyway," Taichi starts firmly, his brain evidently feeding him similar orders to change the subject, "It's not so much the storm as the possibility of a black out that does it."

"Black out. Yeah."

"I can't remember the last time there was a black out. Well I can but…"

"But you probably shouldn't think about it." I say pointedly. 

"No…"

"No." Cue long-thoughtful-dramatic type pause.

"You want coffee?"

"Sure, okay."

* * * * * * * *

We're drinking our coffee in silence ten minutes later when all the lights go out. 

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A/N: Lalala…now you can wait for the next part ^^. This went okay-ish, but I can and will do better. The next part will be fun. I actually have a plan for what I'm going to write. *passes out in shock* Ooh, but you know what? If you're any kind of fan author or artist then I'd love it if you'd visit my site and submit stuff. Please? *looks hopeful*

[http://www.angelfire.com/anime2/werobsessed/][1]

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/anime2/werobsessed/



	4. Candles and Nostalgia

Untitled Document

London Rain

Part Four

~Natsu~

A/N: I started writing this on vacation in Portugal. Ahthe sun, the sea*sighs* Now I'm back in England. Nevermind. In this part I've decided to draw a lot from my own life and experiences soif Matt suddenly starts to sound like an angsty teenage girlthat'll be why. This is hard to write now. I'm busy and school and writing don't mix. 

Little note: I'll probably refer to bits of 'Turning' for this chapter. Because this is, essentially, a continuation of that fic. Just thought I'd let you know that.

Now I feel like this fic needs a quote. The London Rain lyrics are coming in the final part, but until then I want to stick a quote in. And(deepest apologies, Atsuko - look at what I have resorted to!)this just seemed to fit perfectly, after I'd read over what I'd written. It's from a poem by Simon Armitage. Enjoy!

"And I guess that the tightness of the throat   
and the tiny cascading sensation  
somewhere inside us are both part of that  
sense of something else. That feeling, I mean."

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It takes us twenty minutes to find a candle. Twenty damn minutes. Almost as soon as the lights had gone, Taichi had pulled a fat black flashlight from one of the kitchen cupboards (what is was doing there, I don't know). But of course, the batteries had gone dead the last time he'd used it and he hadn't 'got around' to replacing them yet. Obviously it was a royal pain in the ass, because it meant that we had to go stumbling blindly around in the dark searching in vain for something with a lightable wick, but it was also somewhat comforting. Endearing almost. It was such a Tai-like thing to do that it made me realise that he's really still the same person he has always been. Still the same wild-haired kid who became my best friend when I was eleven. 

I'm rummaging around in my room when I hear him calling me triumphantly from the other end of the hallway. I push the door to his room and am met by the scratch of a match and the sudden flare of a sharp little flame as he lights the candle. It's a huge, stumpy piece of ivory wax that looks as though it's never even seen the light of day before.

"I knew I had one here somewhere," He says conversationally, setting the candle cautiously on top of a CD box on the table by his bed, "I'm not really the candle type," he adds apologetically as if some form of explanation is in order.

"Yeahme neither," I answer, hovering uncertainly just inside the doorway, my eyes automatically scanning the room, taking everything in. Taichi's room seems to be the only place in this house that isn't pristine and perfect. I can't help noticing how similar it looks to his room back in university. Those good old days. In fact, it looks as though someone has simply picked up a random room belonging to a Japanese student, shipped it halfway round the world and shoved it in some poor unsuspecting British house much to the dismay of the straight-laced owners. There's, wellcrap everywhere. Assorted items of crumpled clothing, CDs with broken cases from being repeatedly stepped on, a remote control tosomething and empty glasses as far as the eye can see. It's a total mess. But with the warmth of the candlelight and the multitude of wavering shadows being thrown across everything it looks nothing but homey and perfect. 

There's a picture of me stuck to the edge of his mirror.

"You can sit down, you know," Taichi's saying, perching on the edge of the bed and shoving an impressively thick book entitled 'Business Law - Fourth Edition', and two slightly less impressive crushed beer cans off of a chair and on to the floor. 

"Thanks," I mutter absently, concentrating on picking my way carefully across the floor without falling over and/or getting something gross stuck my foot. The chair's made of classy dark wood and looks as out of place in this haphazard room as the crisp sheets of the freshly-made bed. Marie's doing, no doubt. 

Taichi blows thick chestnut bangs out of his eyes, "Sorry about the mess. It's probably notwhat you're used to now." There's a worrying note of embarrassment in his voice as he brushes the pillow, smoothing invisible creases.

"No, it's fine. This is much better than those prissy hotel rooms," I say, wondering if I sound sincere and searching for something to look at. I finally settle on a funny little stone sculpture on a shelf next to his stereo. It's one of those arty jobs that could almost be a number of things, without really being any of them.

"Oh please. You'd rather be here than stay at the Ritz?" Taichi asks sceptically, swinging his legs onto the bed to make himself more comfortable. I nod in response and he follows my gaze to the statuette. "Alice gave me that," He says matter-of-factly.

"Yeah? What is it?" I ask casually. Normally, I'd pretend to know already but it doesn't really bother me if I look stupid in front of Tai.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" He says, folding his arms behind his head, eyes trained to object in question.

"Not to me."

"Well it's ait's likeyou know awell of course it's"

I look at him expectantly.

"I have no idea," he admits cheerfully, bringing a smile to my lips instantly.

"So why do you have it?"

"I told you, it was gift. You think I'd actually go out and BUY a pointless thing like that?"

"Hey, it's been a while. Who's to say you hadn't turned into an art gourmet since I last saw you?" 

"As if," he mutters, eyelids drooping, the combined effect of the shadowy light and the soft pillows beneath him making him drowsy. Funny, when I feel so wide awake. No doubt because he's been working his ass off all day while you've been lounging around his house doing bugger all. "You don't change that much over two years, Yamato." 

"You've changed," I say quietly, dropping my eyes. Look at him. He's got a great career, a nice house, stable lifestyle, good friends. And what do I have? A stressy manager, nowhere I can really call home and a bottle of pills. Spot the winner.

"Yeah, well so have you," he returns irritably, eyes fully closed now, as if my statement had been an insult. 

"How?" I ask tentatively. I've always been paranoid of my fame turning me into the kind of person I hate. The kind of person you see on MTV all the time. The people who win an award and act like they're shocked and delighted when in reality they knew they would get it because they were sleeping with the guy at the top. 'Oh, this is so unexpected! I'd just like to thank God and my manager and most of all, all you little people who got me here today!' Little people? What, because you're like ten feet tall?

Taichi sighs, dragging his eyes open all the way to regard me thoughtfully. He opens his mouth to speak, then seems to change his mind and closes it again before saying, "You haven't. Not really." He graces me with an affectionate smile before letting his eyelids droop again, like a toy who's designed to shut down after delivering such informative titbits.

Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I was supposed to change, to adapt. Maybe that's what becoming famous was all aboutand I just failed miserably. Perhaps that's why I'm here now, sitting in Tai's room, talking to him about nothing in particular just like when we were in high school. I'm stuck in the past already and I'm only twenty two. I dread to think what I'll be like when I make it to eighty. 'When', not 'if'.

Touch wood.

In factI'm starting to feel sleepy myself. The storm rumbles hollowly outside the window, only as loud as the soft sound of Taichi's breathing, which seems to rise and fall in time with the cheerful candlelight. I can feel myself gradually sliding from reality and back to two years ago when I used to watch Tai fall asleep every night. He would always fall asleep first. Always. Mostly because I would always wait for him to go first before even attempting it myself. Just a weird security complex, I guess. I had to check he was okay before I would go to sleep. That was how I always used to be whenever I was sleeping in the same place as Takeru. I'd wait until I was sure he was asleep before even closing my eyes. 

And in my new state of nostalgia I can't help but feel as if nothing's changed. Taichi's not just my friend. This is our room, not just his. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with me noticing how perfect he looks when he's sleeping. Every curve and corner of his face is accented by the heady glow of the candlelight. His chocolatey lashes are dark against his skin and the exhausted folds of his office shirt hang just right, the collar open and the tie long since discarded. I can feel a familiar warmth in my chest and I'm sure my eyes are glazing over as I move to rest my chin on my hand. 

I don't think I could ever find a word to describe the feeling I get when I look at him like this. It's a kind of ache that grips at your insides. Familiar and comforting and distressing all at the same time. It simultaneously brings me to the verge of dizzying joy and the most profound melancholy sadness. It is every single powerful emotion I've ever felt and all I know is that he is all I want to know. I want to simply be absorbed into the feeling, the sensation and forget everything else. Because if I could do that, anything that has ever caused me trouble would disappear and everything would be right and perfect forever. It's so overpowering it's almost tangible. It's the high that drugs can never match. 

If I'm honest, I know that what it isis love.

But I blew that. I had that once and I fucked everything up and now it's too late. I chucked the best thing I'll ever be offered in favour of something cheap and commercial and glitzy and totally devastating. What exactly was possessing me as I signed my life away to Missy? 

"Matt?" Taichi asks suddenly and I open the eyes I hadn't realised I'd closed.

"Mmm?"

"What happened?" He asks almost sadly, propped up on his elbow again, looking up at me innocently. I assume he's referring to the fact that I'd been lost in my own thoughts forGod knows how long.

"Just thinking," I say, trying to dispel the feeling that's still gnawing away inside me.

"No," he says, eyes flashing with despair at my ignorance. That's all it takes for me to realise what he's actually talking about, but I let him tell me anyway. "With us, I mean. What happened with us?" 

As I pause to gather my disjointed thoughts, that have become even more disjointed to realise that he was thinking the same kind of disjointed thoughts even as I was thinking them, he laughs shallowly. 

"I guess you don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." He says with a half-frown, half-sneer that I've never seen on his face before. 

"No, it'sjust need to" Work out what the hell the jumbled mess of my brain is trying to say.

"You don't have to think of something. It's okay. I know what happened." He says and his voice is laced with resentment. But resentment directed at himself, not at me. I can sense it, more than hear it in his tone. If there's ever been a crack in his seemingly flawless confidence, it's when he believes that things aren't right because of something that he's done wrong. He hates failure and he hates being the cause of someone else's problem. 

It's not your fault, Tai. It was me. Me being a jackass.

"I don't know what happened," I start thoughtfully, ignoring his dismissal, "I guess these things just happen, you know? Lives changemaybe we're only supposed to be friends. Nothing more." As I say that, I don't want to believe it. The thought of leaving here and having to go back to my life in the limelight is almost too much to bear. All I want to do right now is curl up right there, on that bed and go to sleep in his arms until everything bad has gone away.

He doesn't answer me, but a sudden, ear-splitting burst of thunder takes the place of his answer.

"Wow, would you listen to that?" He mutters amiably, and whistles lowly as a harsh flash of lightning momentarily drowns the gentle glow of our candle, an effortless and practised change of subject.

"Sounds like it's right over us." I say, my mind still stuck in the previous conversation.

"Yeah. Hope all my windows are closed." He says, and smirks as if I should find that funny. Because of course, windows are so hilarious.

"Eryeah. Hope so."

"Right, because last time we a had a really big storm, one of those vicious midsummer deals, all my windows were open because, well because it was the middle of summer and 'air-conditioning' is just another word in the dictionary over here." I'm totally impressed by the way he can flick from one subject and mood to another so quickly. Has he always done that or is it a skill he's acquired in my absence? 

"So, I'm stumbling around in the middle of the night closing my window because there's books and papers and shit everywhere and if I get them wet then all hell will break loose. And it's totally dark outside because the streetlights are round the other side, and just as I'm closing the window this thing jumps through it at me!"

I raise a sceptical eyebrow, wondering if this is a real 'So I was' story or a random piece of crap he's concocted with a cunning punch line that I'll miss completely.

"Fucking scared me shitless. Because it was wet and furry, and it hurt where it hit my arm. So I completely freaked and yelled and tripped over myself and smashed my head on the dresser and everything. And you know what it was?"

"What?" I say emotionlessly, even though part of me is slightly interested. 

"It's Marie's goddamn cat! A cat! On the second floor! How the hell did it get up here? See, I'd only just moved in and Marie came round the next day to ask if I'd seen her cat and that's the story of how I met Marie!" He finishes with a triumphant flourish and a huge trademark grin. "The cat is called Sheila," He adds, as if he's owes it to the cat to tell me her name.

"Ohgreat. What the hell made you come up with that?" 

He shrugs cheerfully, "Just making conversation. Hey, doesn't this so remind you of when we were back in school?" He asks, sitting up fully and crossing his legs to make room for me to sit on the bed beside him, which I do. Sitting like that, surrounded by the all junk of his room, Taichi looks fifteen again. Just a kid dressed in a stiff, alien shirt ready to visit the relatives.

"Yeah. Definitely." His mattress is harder than most, just like it's always been. "But you know what we're missing?" I ask.

"What's that?" 

"Alcohol." I reply simply, perfectly aware that if it hadn't been for alcohol, we would have no romantic history to look back on. 

Taichi laughs. "Could you handle it?" 

"What?" 

Still snickering, he pokes me playfully in the chest. "You know you can't hold your liquor. Couldn't drink your way out of a paper bag." I return his smirk, feeling the mirror image twist across my lips.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," I inform him wryly, "You don't turn alcoholic without learning to drink properly." He raises an eyebrow and I add for good measure, "You'll see. Tomorrow night I'll drink you under the table." 

"Oh will you?"

"You bet your ass I will."

He nods, our bets are like a tradition. "Okay beautiful, you're on," he says, holding his hand out for me to shake.

I don't even register the slight name hiccup.

"You're so gonna lose," I say breezily and he cocks his head thoughtfully.

"Areyou really an alcoholic?"

"Nah. It was the drugs mostly." 

"Oh."

"You can't just turn alcoholic overnight Tai," I say in what sounds like a casual statement, but is in fact a carefully constructed reference to a previous unofficial bet we made over two years ago. A bet I lost, as a matter of fact. 

I've often wondered if he remembers that night as clearly as I do. Let's see if you can get that one, hotshot.

He looks at me with interest. "No. I'm sure you can't. Not alcoholic, anyway," His smile informs me that he remembers perfectly. 

"You wanna sleep in here tonight?" he suddenly asks so offhandedly that I think I must have misheard. 

"What?"

"Do you want to stay in here?" He repeats with the kind of smile you would grace a two-year old with.

"Why?" I hear myself ask suspiciously, although at the same time I'm hoping that he can come up with a decent, plausible excuse that I don't have to kid myself into believing.

"I'mscared of the storm?" He offers half-heartedly. No, Taichi, that's a pathetic attempthave I taught you nothing?

"Sorry, you'll have to do better than that," I say with a smirk. 

"I" He pauses, thinking, then seems to give up, "I like you being here. That's all."

Despite myself, I hesitate at that. Even though the information that I'd just won the lottery couldn't sound more appealing to my ears. "Well" Say yes, you sad twat! Why is my mouth ignoring my brain?

"I'm not gonna try anything, you know," He says with a wry smile that probably came out less reassuring than he intended it to.

"Good." Damn. "Well in that casesure, I guess so." 

* * * * * * * * * 

'I won't try anything' he says. 

And the funny thing is, he doesn't. He doesn't even joke about doing anything other than simply going to sleep. And now I'm lying here, the firm mattress probably doing wonders for my back, comfortable in the cocoon of Taichi's heavy quilt. My back is pressed against the solid bulk of his chest and his rhythmic breath is warm on the nape of my neck. One of his arms is in its usual place, wound protectively around my waist and I can't remember the last time I've felt so safe and relaxed and cared for. If it felt before as though nothing had changed, that was nothing compared to the state of nostalgia I'm lost in now.

The candle's been snuffed out and all I can see is darkness. The storm's wound down and a faint patter of rain is the only remaining noise.

My head is empty.

Free from any kind of worries or suicidal thoughts or images of me shoving Missy off a cliffall I can feel is blissful, warming, nothingness. I love him so much. 

His breathing confirms the fact that he's sleeping soundly and so I allow my eyes to close and my consciousness to slip away. 

* * * * * * * * 

"FuckMatt? Are you awake?" 

Taichi's gentle voice is barely loud enough to pierce it's way into my mind, but I manage to register it anyway and grunt in response.

"I'm really late so I'm going, okay? Marie's downstairs already."

My answer this time is slightly more discernible, a muted mumble of an 'okay', but I keep my eyes firmly closed. I'm warm and comfortable. The world can piss off. There's laughter in his voice when he speaks again.

"Fine, don't make and effort to wake up to say goodbye to me, then. In fact, you're probably better keeping those eyes shut. Your hair's pretty scary." He grins as I crack open an eye to give him the best withering stare you can give with one half-open eye. He's already dressed for work and I can smell his cologne.

"See ya," He pats my patronisingly on the head before turning to go. He reaches the door as I'm sitting up and rubbing at my eyes. "And I'm expecting you to be ready to drink me under the table when I get back." He says mock-sternly and leaves while I'm still struggling to get my bearings.

This morning, I sing in the shower for the first time in months.

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A/N: Right that's that chapter done. Another chapter of London-fucking-Rain as it has now been re-titled. ^^ No sex, I'm afraid. I've overdosed on lemon and rainy weather always makes me feel hopelessly romantic so I ended up with this. *shrugs* Hope you liked it anyway. Next chapter has lots of Marie and Alice and Missy. And angst. I've decided that things are working out too nicely so I think some mild evilness is in order. Mwah ha ha


	5. Kisses and Cameras

"Yamato love

London Rain

Part Five

~Natsu~

A/N: Phew…essays…research…presentations…ugh. Oh the joys of Sixth Form. Anyway…new part. With some good splashes of alcohol, great lumps of pretentious description, dustings of Notting-Hill-ness and…Marie. ^^

THREE IMPORTANT THINGS:

  1. UPDATE: Drinking scene is rewritten. The first one was an embarrassingly pathetic attempt and so now I've done it again using a fabulously wonderful suggestion from the fabulously wonderful Sora Ishida. Ta love! 
  2. I'm toying with trying to write a lemon scene. The thing is…I know I'll just make a fool of myself and I like this fic and don't want to fuck it up. But yeah. Hands up who wants lemon?
  3. I've decided that I'm not writing the sixth part until the review total for this fic is up to at least 50. Just because I'm feeling bitchy and self-indulgent.

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"Yamato love?" Marie's rounded voice signals her entrance to the kitchen.

"Mmm?" She kept her promise and when I finally made it downstairs, I was met with the enticing smell of frying bacon and the satisfying sizzle of eggs in a hot pan. A proper English breakfast cooked up just for me. Of course, I get breakfast fixed for me wherever I go, but nobody's ever done it simply because they wanted to. It was always because they were getting paid and/or threatened by Missy. And you can tell just by looking at her that she is not someone you should fuck with. So nobody does.

"Can I ask a question?" She asks, a smirk twitching at the corners of her painted lips.

"I guess…" That face is exactly the same one Taichi makes right before he tells me something that he thinks is hilarious, but knows I'll hate. I can't help but be suspicious. Oh God…what have I left lying around that I shouldn't have? What has Tai said to her? Or worse, what has Alice said to her? 

"Why didn't I need to make your bed this morning?"

I pause for an instant too long before my morning-muddled brain supplies a suitable answer.

"I…made it myself." 

She smirks properly now, a gentle curve of mischief and amusement swept across her face, and crosses her arms fluidly across her chest, but says nothing.

"What?" I ask innocently.

She shakes her head, her ringing laugh brightening the room and leaving me surprisingly at ease. 

"Am I going to have to wash Taichi's sheets?" She says in a mock-condescending tone.

I shrug casually, hiding my smile in my coffee mug. I love this. I really do. Being here, I mean. It makes me feel like I belong. Everything's so relaxed and friendly and comforting and just so much…better in every way than what I've grown used to. Perhaps I should just fuck the music business and just stay here with Tai and Marie and Alice. I've already made more money than I could ever need…so why bother going back?

"You're nothing but trouble are you?" Marie's continuing, obviously loving every minute of this lovely morning chat, "He can make enough mess on his own without you being there to help him."

I try not to spit coffee everywhere and make a huge effort to swallow before I let my laughter out. 

"It may be hard to believe to look at me now, but I was young once, you know," she says, grinning widely at my reaction. 

"I thought you still were young," I reply, the cheerful tone of my own voice something completely alien to my ears.

She beams despite the fact that she knows it's only meaningless flattery, "Are you sure you don't want any more, love?" She asks, striding over to the fridge with purpose.

"No, I'm fine thanks." She's already tried to give me about ten plates of food, determined to 'fill me out'. She tuts disapprovingly at my refusal then suddenly perks up.

"Oh, that must be Alice," Marie says cheerily, leaving in the general direction of the front door. I didn't even hear the doorbell…or a knock.

The doorbell rings when Marie's halfway down the hall. The amazing psychic housekeeper. I get to my feet, actually looking forward to talking to Alice and place my coffee cup in the sink. I'm not allowed to wash things here, you see. Marie says that it's her job and it would be a personal insult to her if I did it for her, 'I'm not paid to sit around and do nothing, you know.'

"Oh…of course…yes, he's just through here. Please come in," comes Marie's confused voice from the hallway and there are muffled voices of thanks. 

Not Alice. 

I automatically glance around the room for an escape feeling suddenly and irrationally panicky. I don't want to see anyone else. What if it's Missy? Fuck, or reporters. Or cops?! Can you be arrested for breach of contract? Probably…and you can certainly be arrested for drugs…shit fuck…oh God…could I fit out that window? Maybe if I wasn't full of bacon. Damn breakfast!

"Yamato?" Shit, no where to go and too late to escape anyway.

"Yeah," my voice comes out unsteady.

"These two have brought you something," Marie smiles at me reassuringly, as if she knows the frenzy my brain's just gone into. Before I can protest or beg her to make them go away, Sumi and Tomo (band members, remember?) step into the room, both smiling uncertainly.

We've never been particularly close as a group but these two have their moments and I certainly have reason to view them as something resembling friends.

Everything about Sumi is petite. She's tiny and skinny and has the smallest feet you've ever seen on an adult. To add to that, she's got very elfin features; button nose and tiny pouting lips. Her hair is dark and layered and it bounces around her chin to the rhythm of her drumsticks as we perform. In a combination as perfect and striking as that of the outfit she wears, her eyes are wide and enigmatic, the irises an eccentric violet. She makes clothes in her spare time. Spare time…how does she have enough time to make herself clothes when I never seem to have any at all. Today she's wearing a lace-up black corset (that looks far too tight for her own good) and tattered jeans that flow from her hips and pool around her ankles in surplus folds of faded denim. There's strategically-placed slashes running across her thighs. The jeans catch my eye immediately because I don't think I've ever seen her wear things with legs before. Sumi lives in mini-skirts that barely cover her ass most of the time. Even in the winter. She freezes of course, but the male fans seem to appreciate it.

Tomo's shock of messy red hair clashes comically with Sumi's sleek jagged layers. He's tall and lanky, about my height…maybe slightly taller…I've never bothered to check. Tomo's the kind of person who melts into the background and I often find myself overlooking him. In fact, I probably wouldn't have noticed him at all if it weren't for the fact that he and Sumi come as a pair and you'd have to be blind, deaf and probably dead not to notice someone as loud and attention seeking as her. He's always been quiet, reserved…the referee to the arguments between Sumi, Koji and I. Which there are rather a lot of. His eyes are brown and understanding, similar to Tai's, but lacking that special spark. I've only recently started to get to know him and have made the amazing discovery that he has an absolutely wicked sense of humour. He delivers his punch lines with a calm and subtle indifference that you can't help but find funny. His movements are somewhat awkward, self-conscious, but his fingers fly across the black and white bars of his keyboard with unbelievable grace.

"Hey," Sumi says quietly, "How are you feeling?" How am I feeling? How is she feeling, more like. She must be ill to be this quiet.

"I'm…okay."

"Good. We…well, we were talking last night," She glances at Tomo, as if for reassurance, "and we wanted to do something to help. But, like, we couldn't think of anything. So…we agreed that for us the worst thing about being away from the group would be not being able to play and stuff so…" she looks at Tomo again and for the first time I notice that he's got my guitar case slung over his shoulder.

"We broke into Missy's room last night," Tomo says coolly as he shrugs the strap from his shoulder and hands the case to me, which I take mechanically. Missy doesn't trust us to look after our own instruments. They live in her room when we stay in hotels. Bitch. Probably uses them for her satanic rituals.

"You…broke in?" I ask incredulously. Why did I never think to do that? I could've poisoned her Evian or something.

"You bet your ass babe!" Sumi blurts out, her exuberant character leaking out again. "It was fucking sweet! Sliding that credit card through the crack and then…click! Easy as pie…even if it took a couple of attempts. And credit cards," She smiles triumphantly.

"You bloody well better be grateful," Tomo mutters, "I'm down one MasterCard because of you."

"I am. This is so…you didn't have to do this. She'll find out and there'll be shit to pay when you get back." I run my hand over the leather of the casing, suddenly realising how much I've missed the comforting weight of the instrument in my hands.

"Of course we had to do it!" Sumi says.

"Yeah…pass up a chance to get one over on Missy? Never," Tomo confirms.

"Well…thanks. Really. This means a lot." 

There's an awkward silence that often falls between you and people you only half know where you all realise that with common ground exhausted, there's nothing else to talk about.

"We should go back," Sumi breaks the silence as usual, "Can't have three of us escaping at once. Get better, okay? We miss you…Koji's unbearable without you to shout him down." She leans forward to place a sisterly kiss on my cheek and Tomo smiles wryly behind her.

I'm already unpacking the guitar as Marie ushers my band members out the door, and smiling unconsciously as I do so. In a weird way, this is the only sight that can compare to Taichi. The guitar. I can spend hours just looking at it. Following every sleek line and curve, running my eyes across the slick, glossy surface, carefully examining the flawless border between sharp red and purest white. Everybody should have something so incredible to look at. And it's not just that. This thing holds more memories and more emotions than I care to count. Every lyric that's ever fallen from my lips is wound between those taut strings and the lights of every gig are trapped in the smooth paint. It's a constant reminder of success and of better times and of everything good in my life. I have others that I play in concerts and stuff…but they're just instruments. This is MINE. 

"Is that it then?" Marie's asking over my shoulder, bending to see better, but sensing that she shouldn't touch it.

"This is it," I confirm, not taking my eyes off the instrument. You never know. It might disappear if I look away. 

* * * * * * * *

The guitar rests on my lap as I'm talking to Alice just over an hour later. I can't really play without an amp, but my fingers move just above the strings practising familiar chords.

"I've been thinking a lot since our last talk, Yamato," Alice starts conversationally. She's dressed all in grey today. Not a dowdy schoolteacher grey, her suit is a crisp, sophisticated colour with a white cotton shirt beneath. The top two buttons are undone to reveal a flash of dainty gold against her pale skin.

"Yeah. Me too." I mutter absentmindedly, not looking up from miming my songs. 

"And I think I've come up with an interesting theory, which I believe was confirmed today."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I'd just like to ask a couple of questions," She says, waiting for my permission.

"Okay." I relax my hands, resting them across the guitar, prepared for having to think carefully about complicated answers.

"How do you feel?" She asks. That's one of her questions?

"Fine," I shrug. 

"Are you pleased with your progress?" What? Progress in what?

"Progress…?" 

"You know. Not being so depressed all the time, not turning to…" She trails off, watching me as if she can read my thoughts, "Please tell me that you have actually noticed an improvement."

"Oh. Yes." I haven't been thinking about it. Like…at all. That's a past problem. It's gone away. I'm safe for now, so why bother to worry? I've developed a terrible ability to push anything that's out of sight completely out of mind and only worry about it when I come to it. I always used to think that I was a pretty rational person but…I guess things do change.

"It hasn't crossed your mind in the last…oh…twenty four hours, has it?" Alice says in a strange tone…not quite disapproval. Just as if she knows she can't be annoyed because I don't know any better.

"Er…not really. But…the birds didn't piss me off this morning," I offer helpfully. 

"I see. I thought as much."

"What?"

"Never mind. Next question. Are you missing your…former life, as it were, at all?" She asks thoughtfully, bringing her hand up to rest her chin on.

"A little…I guess…I miss my music."

"But nothing else?" What is this? Random pointless questions? I shake my head.

"So you're happy?" 

"Yeah…" I say suspiciously, suddenly worried that's she's in some way in league with Marie to…do something.

"How are you getting on with Taichi?" 

"Fine."

"Fine?" Ah…there it is.

"Yes. Fine."

"Not…better than fine?" She's trying not to smile. Damn them all.

"What did Marie tell you?"

Alice loses her battle with the unprofessional quirk of her lips. "I think you know perfectly well what she told me," She says, in the teasing manner of a teenage girl.

"It's not what you think," I say, entirely too quickly.

"Yeah, yeah…"

"It's not! What is this? You're supposed to be professional," I tell her, folding my arms across my chest.

"Fuck professionalism," Alice returns easily, the curse surprising me. She seemed too…upper class or whatever. But I guess I know better than anyone that stereotypes are not always accurate. And she is Marie's friend. That has to say something about her. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Yamato. I just want to know because I want to prove my theory. Are you and Taichi getting…you know…closer?" she asks cheerfully. This is like if my mother asked me for the exact date that I lost my virginity.

"I…what? I have no idea what you're talking about." I say stubbornly. I'm not ready to trust her THAT much. She sighs, blows up her bangs and settles back in her chair.

"Okay. Alright," she concedes, "Would you like to hear my theories? It might give you something to think about." I can tell that I'm going to hear them whether I like it or not, so I shrug in non-committal agreement. 

"Well. You told me before that you didn't really have any specific reason for what you were doing, no real problems in your life. Correct?" she queries, knowing she's right.

"Yeah…" Now what is she getting at?

"Did it occur to you that perhaps that was the reason you were using the drugs?"

"What…the fact that I didn't have a problem?" I ask in confusion. Of all the screwed up theories…

"Yes. Exactly that. You didn't have a problem. You were depressed for what was seemingly no reason. That's always confusing - not understanding your own emotions - and many people find that they can't deal with the fact that there's no logical explanation for the way they're acting. Your way of dealing was to simply create your own reason, thereby ensuring that things made sense again," she explains, carefully watching for my reaction. And I don't seem to react at all.

  
"Right…" I say emotionlessly.

"The drugs and the drink were your problem. Your created reasons," she expands and I feign recognition.

"Oh yeah. Yeah…I guess they were."

"Yes?"

"Yeah." I'm rapidly losing confidence in her abilities. What a stupid idea. Yeah, because I really wanted to make my own life as miserable as I possibly could. Maybe she's the one who needs a shrink.

"Okay…so…the remaining question is…where did the initial depression come from? And why did you have to create your own reasons for it? What was wrong with the existing cause? " What the hell is she babbling?

"I guess…"

"Do you want to know what I think the cause was?"

No. Fuck off, I'm bored of you.

"From what Taichi's told me about your relationship…it was a pretty big thing," Alice says in a seemingly irrelevant statement, "I know I shouldn't say this…but he was pretty messed up when he first came to me. Totally absorbed in his work, didn't know whether he was coming or going, really edgy…completely different to how I now know him to be. And unless whatever you two had was terribly one-sided, I expect that such a sudden and somewhat unnecessary split, had quite an effect on you too," she finishes calmly.

"What…so…you're saying that you think that all this was because I left Tai? That's stupid." I inform her bluntly. What does she think I am? Stupid, idiot woman. 

"Is it?" Alice arches a slender eyebrow, regarding me carefully. "I think it's incredibly interesting that now that you're staying here, and are quite obviously growing closer to Taichi," she stresses her voice to cut off any protest I might have been about to make, "all the problems seem to have disappeared practically overnight. I mean, what could have been a better excuse to come see him again? I'm not saying it was subconscious of course…but maybe he's more important to you than you'd like to admit."

I give her a withering look. I don't know why I'm even bothering to listen to this crap. Even if there is some weird little thought in the back of my mind twitching at her words.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that you have absolutely no desire to get back together with Taichi," She says plainly.

I stare at her for a moment before I calmly get to my feet and leave the room.

* * * * * * * *

"Okay. Hit me." Taichi says, sitting down at the table and drumming his palms against the yellow oak with an eager grin.

"What, literally?" I ask, placing the numerous shot glasses provided by Marie (her husband collects them. Apparently) in a neat line across the table. They're the biggest 'shot' glasses I've ever seen. In fact, I'm debating whether they're even supposed to be used for shots and not like…orange juice or something. 

It's amazing how much I'm looking forward to this. And I'm not even sure why. By Alice's theories it's no doubt because of the connection in my mind between Tai, vodka and fantastic sex. The subconscious desire to re-live everything about that night when we were both on the verge of really beginning out lives, finding out where we fit into the grand scheme of things. The lingering memory of his arms around me last night. Or it could just be the fact that it's been too long since I had a good, hard…drink. 

Taichi gives me a withering look, then turns his attention to counting the shot glasses. 

"What is that? Twelve?" He queries with no particular emotion.

"Six each. Too much for you?" I ask with mocking sympathy.

"Oh no. It's you I'm worried about." He returns, smiling confidently. I reply by retrieving a bottle from the counter and sloshing vodka into each eager little glass. Not the pathetic amounts you get when you ask for a shot in a bar. These are the real thing. Six will be plenty.

"There," I say calmly, "You ready?" 

"And waiting." 

I pull up the chair opposite his, lacing my fingers together across the polished golden wood of the tabletop. "First one to choke loses. You going first or shall I?" The radio's playing in the background, something fast and insane by Fatboy Slim. I couldn't name it but it seems vaguely appropriate, unlike the buttery yellow walls, warm ceiling light and pretty potted herbs on the windowsill. The two lines of stout little glasses standing to attention before us look deceptively innocent with their cut-crystal surfaces and their still burdens of transparent liquid. Not the best setting for a drinking binge. 

You don't need me to tell you that Taichi goes first. Without bothering to voice his decision, he reaches for his first shot; his fingers wrapping around the little glass with carefully focused determination. He lifts it up, seemingly oblivious to everything else, pausing at the last moment to offer me his classic old devil-may-care grin.

"Bottoms up," he says, before tossing the fiery liquid down his throat with a jerk. 

It barely affects him. 

"Alright Blondie," he says, voice as steady as ever, "show me what you got." 

I can't stop my mind from buzzing with all the ways I could interpret that request as I reach for my own glass and down the alcohol without hesitation. Easy as pie. I place the glass back in its position at the start of my meticulously arranged line and raise my eyes to meet Tai's.

"Child's play," I inform him bluntly and his eyebrows quirk with competitiveness. Keeping his eyes firmly locked on mine; Taichi picks up the next shot in his line and downs it easily, barely wincing as the drink roars through his system. He says nothing but he doesn't need to. Any idiot can sense the tension of a challenge. Following his lead and not breaking our gaze I take my next little punishment-in-a-glass and lick my lips with exaggeration. Nothing is more enjoyable than a little competition with Tai than a little competition with the added bonus of sexual undertones. Whatever the extent of Alice's lovely little theory, he still turns me on. 

Naturally, he knows that.

The bottom of my glass has barely touched the table when Taichi's next one is in his hand, the rim being pressed to eager lips. He gulps down his vodka and slams the empty glass to the table, not quite in line with the others. He grins at me expectantly, brown eyes smouldering. Just like when we always used to fight. Even when we were little and innocent…innocent-ish…our fights were never anything really nasty (Excluding that tiny little, practically insignificant, 'I'm feeling pissy so I'm going to rip your head off' moment I had back in the world we never talk about. But hey, that was once.). It gives you such an incredible buzz to have someone so prominent in your life focus all their emotions solely on you and nothing else. The fact that they're screaming that they hate you and want you to stick you head in an oven or fall quite randomly off a cliff is irrelevant. The one-on-one contact that generally comes after the first punch has been thrown isn't too bad either.

I swallow my next shot automatically, hardly noticing it. Three down. Taichi pauses before reaching his fourth, watching intently as I drop glass number three back into place. His eyes are starting to glaze like they always do when he's drinking. Perfectly aware of him watching, I bend an elbow and bring my hand up to rest my chin on, raising one eyebrow at him in expectation. "Flagging?"

"Fuck no. After just three? You gotta be kidding me…have a little faith," he says, smirking for some reason but not making any move to continue. I drop my arm and lean forward to talk to him over the wall of shots.

"So drink the next one," I say, daring him. 

He leans forward on his side and pauses, eyes burning into mine, then sits up again and salutes mockingly. "Yes, ma'am!" he barks, picking up an untouched little glass.

I feel my foot connect with his shin before I've even thought about doing it. What do you know? My brain still picks up those girly comments and automatically delivers the violence that simply has to follow.

He sucks his breath in with pain, but then sucks in a whole load of vodka instead, which no doubt blanks any traces of pain from his mind. Taichi squeezes his eyes shut with the rush to his head, while I watch with interest. So soon?

"Ha," he says breezily as his eyes slide back open. Alright…perhaps not. He positions the shell of his last shot in it's line and then reaches across and picks up my next one, which he proceeds to hand to me. "Your turn." He folds his fingers together and rests them under his chin, regarding me with worrying cheerfulness. 

I bring the glass to my lips, watching suspiciously as his lips quirk into a playful smirk. I jump and nearly drop my shot as his foot runs up my leg, tracing the calf through the denim that covers it. Bastard. 

"Careful. You don't want to spill it. You lose if you do," He informs me helpfully, "New rule."

"Oh yeah?" I mutter, having gained control of the slick little glass again.

"Yep. You've got to swallow every…single…drop." He leans towards me over the wall, still smirking.

"This is my game," I say calmly, "which means that I make all the rules."

"So make this one."

"No."

"Why?" 

"Because it will piss you off." 

Taichi shrugs. "Okay. Fine," he grins, "It's not like it'll affect your chances of losing." Yeah. Won't make them any more existent.

I throw my head back, downing my vodka with a dramatic flourish and then meet his eyes as I run my tongue down the side of the cold glass, catching a stray drop. Every drop. 

" 'Ha' back atcha, oh cockiest of the cocky," I mutter, leaning forwards as I replace my glass. The whole head tossing thing was a mistake. Hurling your head about is always guaranteed to make you even more drunk. And my head is definitely starting to feel drunk. Idiot. Are we trying to lose or what? 

Taichi laughs. "I thought you said something different, there," he says, shaking his head slightly.

"That's because you've got a mind that's trapped in the gutter." 

"Please! I invented that gutter," he returns shamelessly, "Do you not know me but at all?"

It's not until Taichi reaches to pick up his fifth glass that I notice how close we are. The distance between our faces is barely more than that of the two lines of back to back shot glasses. Tai's eyes are dancing. With laughter and determination and barely contained lust. I'm sure mine look the same. He smiles at me over the glasses, the light from the ceiling ricocheting off the shaped glass and streaking fluidly across his face.

Fuck this.

All I want to do is shove all those annoying, separating little pieces of glass off of the table, grab Tai's face and kiss him as the glass splinters and cracks on the floor tiles. I would as well if only that didn't count as spilling the drink. Losing is completely out of the question.

"Okay. Let's take this one together," I say innocently, wanting to speed this up, win quickly and then jump him while we're both still drunk enough. 

Oh what? Like I can't be a pervert too.

Taichi slurs his agreement with encouraging hastiness and I take hold of the glass that was parallel to his, trying to ignore the less than encouraging fact that my vision is blurring slightly.

"Ready?" He asks, and I can feel his alcohol-laden breath faintly. 

"Yeah." My lips are numb from the biting strength of the vodka and my head's beginning to feel fuzzy.

We both throw our heads back in an automatic unison that has been perfected over years, and both gasp immediately. I guess five is a significant number when speed-drinking vodka shots. 

"Ouch," Taichi mutters to himself…to me…to the table…who can say?

"Tell me about it," I reply in the same tone. 

"Okay! Final round!" Tai says with sudden enthusiasm after making a remarkably quick recovery. Either that, or he's faking it. "I'm going to eat mine before your go now this time." He misses the first time when he tries to pick up his glass

"Shut up trying to talk and do it, ya drunk."

He does. I do a double take when he chokes and starts to cough.

"Ah! Ah! Ha ha!" I cry in disbelief, "You lost! You just lost! Did you just see that! You fucking fucked up Tai!" Cool. I'm gonna win. Massive grin.

Taichi composes himself quickly, shaking his head and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Shut up," comes the impressively dignified reply. He pushes the empty glasses out of the way, seizes my last shot and slams it down in front of me.

"I haven't lost until you drink that," He says through his teeth, his face bare inches from mine.

I lift an eyebrow with deliberate slowness and there's one of those time-stilling moments between us before I snatch up the glass, bring the rim to my tingling lips and snap my head back. The empty glass hits the table with a dull clink and I swallow the harsh liquid and feel it burn it's way through my system.

Talk about a victory.

"Now you've lost," I say remarkably coolly, all things considered.

"Fuck off." Taichi says in a sulky, childish voice. 

I'm so drunk. It's amazing how totally aware of that fact I am from the second I pass my drinking limit. Any sane, sober part of me that still exists after a binge like that retreats intelligently and watches whatever follows with mounting dismay.

The legs of Taichi's chair make a noise of screeching protest as they're shoved suddenly across the floor.

"What are you doing?" I ask him in confusion as he places an unsteady foot on the chair he's just vacated and hauls himself up with the jerky adrenaline brought on by the alcohol.

"Getting up here." He says plaintively, as if I'm an idiot for not knowing. He then proceeds to step onto the table and I reach out with one clumsy hand to steady him as he wobbles, in danger of either falling off or knocking over the remainder of the bottle of vodka. It's debatable as to which is worse. 

"Why you idiot? You're gonna fall and break your neck." I say, letting go of his leg as the little bugger tries to kick me.

"You won so I think it's only fair that I get to stand higher than you. Evens out." Taichi says, regaining his balance after the failed kicking attempt. He grins down at me as if this drunk logic makes perfect sense.

Of course, something so petty shouldn't bother me. And so, of course, it does. Taichi has never had to look down to see me before. I'm taller and that's how it works. So there.

I climb clumsily onto the table to join him. Why? Because I'm pissed and that's how it works.

"Nope, you lose that one too!" I shove him playfully in the chest after I've found my footing, intelligently not noticing how close he is to the edge of the table.

He quite innocently grabs my arms to stop himself from falling. 

And then as if we both saw it coming, my vodka-warmed lips are moving over his, his hands are in my hair and we're pressed together, chest to chest. Instantly, there's nothing in the world but roaring, crackling emotions, flowing through every vein, burning and chilling more harshly than any shot. 

It's almost the perfect reunion. A particularly jealous and spiteful thing called gravity, rudely interrupts as Tai steps backwards into nothingness in an attempt to adjust to my weight against him. Our collision with the floor is just as sharp and sudden as the alcohol that litters my consciousness. 

Once the mingling streams of expletives peter out, we turn to each other, simultaneously aware that one of us might be hurt.

"Are you okay?" We ask in unison, then blink, our foggy brains confused by the stereo effect. Taichi recovers first.

"Aside from a broken back, I'm okay." He says, grinning.

"Yeah. Me too." 

"Good." Taichi says, leaning forwards, and I barely have time for a breath before our lips are locked again. It's incredible. Every slip of his tongue, every sweep of his hands brings back a fresh memory and I'm suddenly realising that Alice is completely and utterly right. 

I throw my arms around his neck, clinging passionately; trying to make up for the two lost years that lie between us. And he's kissing me like it's the apocalypse. Locked and lost in each other's embrace as the world crumbles around us.

* * * * * * *

Naturally, Marie only has to make one bed again in the morning. Only this time, she'll probably have to wash the sheets as well. 

Between waking up in Taichi's arms and finishing breakfast, some things happen. Probably eating…talking aimlessly. I can't tell you what they are, because they aren't important enough to stick in my mind. But then very little seems of any importance when compared to…

All I know is that we don't watch breakfast TV. I know that because if we had, we might have been informed enough not to answer the door when the now familiar clunk of the brass knocker sounds. Taichi gets up to answer it announcing that it's probably Marie, who's misplaced her key ("Again! I swear, I am gonna superglue that thing to her forehead tomorrow!"). And me, being the intelligent chap that I am, wander down the hall after him to say hello. 

I really should know better.

Taichi opens the door before I get there and steps back again immediately for some reason, his face the very picture of shock. Before he can say anything, I'm standing in the open doorway and looking out with a frown wondering whether Marie's wearing some insane clashing outfit or something. 

I really, _really_ should know better.

You'd think I'd get used to it. But nothing can ever prepare me for this familiar and increasingly terrifying sight. Thousands and thousands of white, assaulting flashes. So many high little clicks that they merge together into one dull, grating whirr. All the focused voices shouting, telling me to look their way, hurling harsh calculated questions. It might as well be every single journalist and respective photographer in London. But I barely notice them; all they are is one blurring mass, swarming around the one figure in the middle, standing with a perfectly lined pink smirk to match her rose-coloured suit.

"Yamato! Darling. As fun as it's been, I'm now bored of lying to the press on you behalf. So I've brought them to you so they can hear it from your own mouth!"

Says Missy, charmingly.

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A/N: Sorry. I seem to have a slight obsession with cliff hangers, ne? I'll work on getting the next part out though so you're not –hanging- too long. Ba bum cha! 

Hooray! Now it's 'Let's all humour the author time'! Yaaaaay!

I'd just like to take a moment to talk a bit about some of the reviews I've been getting and some of my little Taito theories.

It's great, wonderful, totally fantastic that I'm getting nice reviews. *beams* Thank you so much to everyone who has been a 'responsible reader'. You have no idea how much my reviews mean to me – they're what keep me writing! So…I want to write some feedback for the reviewers. Somebody mentioned that this is different to a lot of the Taito fics out there, which totally made me jump for joy because that was exactly what I was going for. 

I love Taito, but what I find is that in many fics they seem to be just lovers, not friends as well. Here, I'm trying to emphasise the actual friendship, which is the most important part because it creates a cool kind of equality, which I will rant about in a minute. People seem to forget that Matt and Tai were friends before they were anything else. That means that they already have a kind of bond which makes a romantic relationship both more difficult and more intense. Gives an interesting spin with the paranoia you get about screwing up a special friendship. I know I wouldn't want to do that for the world. It means that the forming relationship doesn't work like clockwork, which is how it is in real life.

I also try to balance the characters. I am SO SICK as seeing Matt as a pathetic, weak, insufferably girlie character. I know that most of you like to see him as the uke and I agree that he probably would be to some extent, but to be really submissive and passive is totally against his character and it just pisses me off. I can't stand when there are two very definite roles in a relationship (i.e. Dominant and submissive) because it stops being a relationship and just becomes some kind of…I dunno…weird…load of weirdness (don't you love how articulate I am?). They are very equal in every way and I believe that they should be portrayed as such. 

That's what I was trying to do with my most recent fic, 'Knock Out'. The Matt in that is much more aggressive and feisty than you would normally find him being in fics.

People seem to like Marie…yeah so do I. My favourite scenes to write are the ones with her in! *grins* And I'm glad that some of you actually understand my humour. I don't know when this suddenly turned funny but…I like the humour better than the angst so…yes.

Um…rambled out now. I'll let you leave. .


	6. Wigs and Ponytails

London Rain

Part Six

~Natsu~

A/N: I am so sorry that this has taken me so long. I hit the most enormous and scary writer's block. I just couldn't seem to pick up straight where the last chapter left off. So after trying twice (this is the third version of this chapter that I have written) to work my way around the block, I gave up and went the other direction (i.e. skipping forward a bit in time). So. Hope it works. 

Plot-wise…this chapter is kind of a cop-out. I'm sorry but I really feel that if I don't end this fic NOW it will never get finished. But never fear! I have a sequel AND a prequel planned if people want them. 

I'm normally very good about not bashing characters. But please excuse one teeny tiny little comment about Sora being boring. Oh what? I'm sorry, but she is. 

Also, thank you to KT for your support and advice in that e-mail you sent (I really hope you got my reply…my email thingy is really temperamental. Mail me again if you never got a reply!!!), to anyone and everyone who reviewed and of course to Atsuko, as always. xxx

YIPPEE! THIS IS THE LAST PART!!! (thought I'd better get that off my chest)

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You know how there are some feelings that you just can't seem to hold in your mind for any length of time? And it doesn't matter how often you experience them they never stay with you for longer than they take to happen? That's how it is with me and performing. I've done it hundreds of times and I still can never recall the memory of the feelings it evokes. You'd think that perhaps by now I would know it well enough, might have got used to it, maybe even got bored of it. And I sometimes think I have. I bitch and moan and swear and kick things over having to go onstage when I'd rather be in bed, but the second those spotlights turn, smartly training themselves to my figure, I can never understand why in hell I would kick up such a fuss about something so incredible. A sudden hush blankets the collective voice of the audience as I step up to the microphone and there are those few intoxicating seconds where I'm in charge. At the centre of everyone's attention. There's nobody to start the performance but me and when I do it's as if this whole wave of people has been trained to mindlessly adore and admire, to shut out anything and everything other than the music. And if I choose not to start…well…the rest of them are fucked really, aren't they? Because what can the lighting guy or the audience or my manager do if I choose not to deliver? Not much. Especially now that I'm on my own. Solo. Sans band.

Who wouldn't thrill to that kind of power? 

And it's not just a control freak getting his kicks. I'm not as shallow and stuck up as most people think I am. As Missy says I am (Missy who is so far up herself she's practically inside out). It isn't just about the admiration. It's about reaching people. Being given the opportunity to touch people you've never met along with the people that you see every day. It's so huge that I can't even explain it. Everybody who listens to my music and finds that it means something to them absorbs a little part of me into their being. If people remember my words, the chords of the guitar, they remember me, and surely being remembered is the greatest thing you can hope for in life. 

I don't think that I could ever forfeit a performance once I was on stage. I might think about dropping it all, yelling 'No. Fuck it' and marching off without a backwards glance, but I don't think that I ever could. Now more than ever. For one thing, there would be no band members to get pissed and shout and feel victimised. I'd have to do that to myself and I really hate doing that. And then, of course, I'd let my manager down and I'd never want to do that again. Seriously. I'm not being sarcastic.

So how confused are you now? Perhaps I should stop being a bitch and just tell you what happened. Taichi always used to go insane when I'd tease him with little titbits of information and never let him have the whole story. Like when you tease a dog with their favourite toy, pretend to throw it and then hide it behind your back, so they go tearing down the yard in search of it and then panic before they realise it's still right where it started. So I'll quit pretending to throw the squeaky thing and explain to you why I am standing on stage, in the midst of those empty seconds, without the background comfort of the band. Why the audience are holding their breath with uncertain anticipation and why there is a manager waiting in the wings that I'd rather die than disappoint.

In fact…when I think about it, this is not so much exhilarating as it is terrifying. This isn't just the Concert feeling all over again; it's the First Concert feeling. The one where you're suddenly asking yourself what the fuck you were thinking, committing yourself to get up in front of all these people and bear your soul to them. Your very essence, your blood and sweat. What if they don't like me? What if they miss Sumi's vivacious drums? Tomo's soothing back-up? Koji's…well, yeah, nobody could actually miss Koji, but they could miss the others. People really hate change, right? I hate change, how can I expect my audience not to? Shit…which song am I starting with? Why am I here? Why am I bothering? 

But as my mind turns against itself, my faithful fingers are already sliding into position and picking out the notes of the first chords. I'm starting before I quite realise what I'm doing. And once I've started, I'm always fine.

Those cameras were the last straw. There have been lots of 'last straws' in my life, but they were obviously fake, because the camera incident really was the last. I lost it in every sense of the word.

Forget the idea that I'd have got used to people with cameras. Because I haven't. My first instinct, which is to freeze like an animal in the face of the headlights, can normally be overridden. But with so many headlights, all bearing down on me from every angle I had to revert back to feral instincts and Taichi had to shift me bodily before he could slam the door shut. Then the next thing I feel compelled to do is punch the photographer in the face. We could scratch that one because Taichi was there, as someone normally is, preventing any bloodshed. See, that would be when, with other options not available, I would offer a breezy smile to the lens and wait patiently until it was kind enough to piss off out of my face. That was what was supposed to happen. But something in my brain must have just malfunctioned, or snapped, or fucking exploded, or something.

Snapped is probably most accurate, because you could practically hear it as something inside me just gave way, leaving me a sobbing, gasping wreck. Just like that night in the hotel room. It started with that feeling where I have to do something…where I get all panicky and nervy and start pacing and wringing my hands just because I have to be doing something to get rid of the rapidly mounting tension. That feeling that feels as if I have to get rid of something inside me…I have to exorcise it somehow before it bursts out on it's own, ripping me apart. There's not even any point in trying to keep it inside because it'll win and then it will be worse. I could feel my throat constricting and the tips of my fingers tingling. I was all ready to try to pace the feeling away but I saw Taichi looking at me strangely and that was it. I could almost hear the splintering screech of that something snapping.

It was as if my legs had suddenly been ripped from under me, sending me crashing to my knees overcome by a sudden bout of acute hysteria. Tears were burning their way from between my lashes, which were squeezed together as I fought for that lovely rhythm that we call breathing. The sound of Taichi's voice repeating my name dully registered along with the fact that he would have no idea what to do and would probably panic. He's like me in the fact that he doesn't know how to deal when faced with something that he can't control. Despite that, I remember him being there at my side, wrapping his arms around me nervously and making little soothing noises, obviously at a loss of what else to do. It was enough. I could breathe as much as I needed to, to start exorcising what needed to be exorcised.

"I don't want to have to do this anymore!" I heard myself say, slipping back into the passenger seat, watching myself start to pour everything out in a clumsy waterfall of words and emotion. "I don't want to not understand! I don't want to be on my own every night! I don't want people I've never met to know my favourite colour and my shoe size! I want to be able to go home and see my family for Christmas and I want to stay here with you! I should never have signed Missy's fucking, FUCKING contract! Tai, don't make me go back! Please…I don't want to go back." 

Or something like that. Something equally pathetic and embarrassing and generally hysterical. Of course then I just reverted back to plain crying. Which is probably worse.

Looking out at this audience now, I don't think that there's a single one of them that could have dealt with me in a state like that. I don't even think that there's a single person in the world who would have dealt with it properly, TK and my parents included. But Taichi was able to, just as Taichi always can. He waited patiently for me to run out of steam before pulling back and hitting me, a good sturdy clout round the head, more intended to shake me to my senses than to injure. 

"I…don't want to…" I'd hiccuped, just because it was the first response that had came out of my mouth. And you're expected to respond when someone smacks you for being an idiot.

"So don't," Taichi had replied in all seriousness.

"But I have to!" I'd wailed, tears threatening to spill again. Taichi had actually laughed at that. Probably laughing at how ridiculous I sounded. Or looked. Or…I don't know. Taichi laughs a lot when he should be doing other things. He'd drawn me back into his arms and said,

"Yamato…if something makes you this unhappy…it really isn't worth it."

It was then that I decided to leave the band.

My band…the thing that had been my heart and soul for so long, the thing that I had worked harder at than I've ever worked at anything, the thing that was important enough to me that I chose it over Tai. I don't why it took me so long to work out that it wasn't what I wanted at all.

I still feel bad about the decision. It was the right one to make, but just because it was the best thing for me, didn't mean that it was the best thing for everybody. I think I'll always miss Sumi and Tomo when I play, and I'll always remember them as the ones who braved Missy's wrath to bring me my guitar. As friends. I probably sound stupid speaking in the past tense like that, especially because we've promised to keep in touch…but life never works quite like you think it should. I'm not dismissing them as has-beens though, don't get me wrong…the past tense is more of a precaution than anything else. I know all too well that sometimes the people you love best are the ones you lose.

And of course, that means that the people you hate will be on your back until the day you die. Like Missy. Oh you may not see her but she's out there somewhere, watching, waiting. Missy was not a happy bunny when I managed to wriggle my way through the bars of her 'iron-clad' contract. Upon hearing of my predicament, Marie enlisted the help of her son, Sam-the-lawyer-from-Cambridge and he made short work of the contract. The look on her face when I announced this was the most fantastic thing I have ever seen. I would sell my guitar if it would get me a photo of it. Then of course there's Koji. If Missy doesn't get me, he will. It wasn't long after my dramatic little performance that we got a call from Sumi. Who was actually in tears. Sumi the invincible was sobbing her heart out down the phone. I would have been less surprised to hear Yutaka howling away. 

"Oh God, I am…so SORRY! Yamato, honey, this is all our fault! I'm such a complete and TOTAL dipshit! I swear, if I had any idea that this was going to happen, I would have…dammit, why didn't I think to tie the bastard up before we tried something like- What? No, I'M talking to him."

This was all before she'd even said hello. 

"Tomo piss off, I have to get this off my chest and if you think for one second that you can just-" 

"Yamato?"

That was Tomo.

"Yeah, hi. What's…"

"…with Sumi?" he finished for me and I could picture him rolling his eyes as she snuffled and ranted in the background, "She's kind of upset about the whole camera thing."

"Why? What does it have to do with her?" Tomo sighed in a way that told me that he had had to explain this one too many times.

"You know when we came to bring you the guitar? Yeah, well Koji followed us and only fucking went and told Missy." 

"I'm going to smash his stupid face right through the back of his stupid fucking head!" Sumi's voice suddenly blasted in my ear as she ripped the phone from Tomo's grasp. She's always had a problem about not being constantly in the limelight.

"He TOLD MISSY?" I remember asking in disbelief. Sure, we never got on (he was just jealous because I was the star and he wasn't, Sumi always said), but I never thought he'd just turn against us completely like that. I mean being in league with Missy…he might as well have sold his soul to Satan.

But I don't care. Because now I'm a solo artist, right smack in the middle of my first live SOLO performance and he is nothing. So there.

Anyway. That's where the cameras came from. I have no idea exactly what Missy and Koji are doing now, and to be honest, I don't actually give a shit. But as for Sumi and Tomo, I heard from Yutaka (It's still his job to be the big scary guy that fights off the fans) that they are working on some stuff together. That's cool. I'm glad that they've still got something to do…I'd hate to think that their musical careers were over just because I couldn't get my act together. 

Another major development…I'm going to stop seeing Alice after three months of her crisp suits, shiny legs and laid-back approach to therapy. It's kind of sad…I'm really going to miss talking to her. In fact, I've actually been considering faking a relapse just so that she won't abandon me for some poor sod who actually needs it. She doesn't want to be dealing with real crazy people, right? I don't know why the thought of ending our sessions (why can't I say the word 'sessions' without laughing? What are we, Yamato, nine?) seems so upsetting to me. I guess I'm beginning to understand why people keep diaries. It gives you something to confide in. Alice was like a diary. With the added bonus of providing intelligent conversation.

But then who needs intelligent conversation when I've got Tai?

This is the funniest, most surreal thing you will ever hear. Okay, well perhaps not ever, but definitely today. It still seems like something out of a bad soap opera…but then I guess my whole life has seemed like a bad soap opera, so it's probably not really that surprising. After breaking Missy's contract and explaining to a thousand and one reporters at a press conference why I was leaving the band (a lie about needing 'space to grow and develop' that Marie made up for me. We decided that 'I'm too busy getting pissed, taking drugs and fucking boys to bother with a band' sounded a bit unsavoury), I obviously needed a new manager if I wanted to go solo. Which I did. And, see, Taichi had had just about enough of his job, which would have seemed deathly boring even by Sora Takenouchi's standards. And one night we came up with the perfect way to stay together even when I have to travel. So… 

Please. I think that all of you are perfectly capable of putting two and two together and getting 95.

I'll admit, we had been drinking (like that's surprising) when we agreed to Marie's suggestion that Tai become my manager. I'm amazed at how well it's worked out. I thought that we'd be scratching each other's eyes out, spending so much time together, but it's just seemed to make us closer. It's like back in school when you have to work with someone you barely know on a really killer project. Once you've achieved what you have to, you find that you will always have something that can bring you together. Some common ground. As a pair, we're doing better than either of us could have done on our own. 

Marie's taken to calling us 'Sonny and Cher'. I'm not even going to comment on which one I am. I keep trying to explain that they were a duet, not an artist/manager combo, but will she listen? Hell no.

So that's how it is. How it's all worked out. And how I'm standing here now, drawing my second First Concert to a close. 

The crowd explodes with inspirational gratitude as I finish and lift my eyes from my instrument. A glance over my shoulder reveals Taichi waiting for me in the wings and cheering like he's at a soccer game. Shit? My life? You've got to be kidding me. 

Having escaped the pull of the crowd, I step backstage, practically shaking with aftermath adrenaline, ready to collapse into loving arms. Taichi smiles his smile at me as stagehands bustle noisily around him, moving equipment, shouting orders and generally being noisy and bustling.

"You. Were. FANTASTIC! Fucking hell, I'm so proud of you!" Marie shrieks, coming at me from nowhere before I can reach Tai and enveloping me in a choking and enthusiastic hug. "Did you see the bloody size of that crowd? Jesus Christ, Yamato! You're a STAR!" She draws back slightly, her face alight with school-girlish excitement and fans her face with one red-nailed hand. "Oh dear…look at me, I'm all flustered! Where's a cup of tea when you need one, huh? Mercy, I can't believe I'm backstage…Hey you!" She yells suddenly at some poor roadie who happens to be passing within five feet of her, "Yeah, you! Watch where you're going! You're looking at a friend of the talent here! Don't see you wearing a VIP badge!" 

"Marie, stop it! I'm sorry about her…" Taichi's apologising to the unfortunate guy, who's regarding Marie with barely contained terror.

"You've got to put these moochers in their place Taichi. Isn't that right Yamato?"

"Er…"

"Of course it is. See Taichi? Yamato knows."

"Right," Taichi smirks, while I, as usual, am still trying to keep track of the plot. "Marie, can you excuse us? Ask that guy with the ponytail, Derek, and he'll get you something to drink." I can't help but be amazed at how Taichi seems to know exactly what he's doing when he's barely been in the business three months. I never knew you could get drinks from the ponytail guy (called Derek? Since when?). I thought he was just there to…I don't know…have a ponytail.

"Ponytail, huh?" Marie asks suspiciously, glancing in his direction from behind wisps of red hair that have escaped the clutches of her hairpins.

"Yes Marie, don't panic. He's not a convict. He's very nice."

"Huh…well…only because I'm really thirsty…" 

I watch as she trots away, looking down her nose at anyone who dares to come near her.

"Sorry, she's drunk on the excitement of being a VIP," Taichi's apologising again, as I start towards the dressing room, with him at my heels. "She's been like this all the way through…I thought I was going to have to call Yutaka to keep her from running onto the stage. I should have left her at home," he mutters with the air of a parent speaking of a tiresome child.

"It's okay…it's cool that she's so excited." I reply as I close the door behind us. 

You really have to wonder who decorates these rooms. Everything in it seems to be the same shade of awful dusty pink. And the glowing light bulbs surrounding the mirror are almost too cliché for words. But at least it's something. And at least I don't have to share it with anyone.

"Yeuch…" Taichi vocalises my thoughts as he glances around the room.

"Yeah." I twist open a bottle of water that somebody has kindly left out for me and drink half of it in one go. "It's completely unacceptable," I say in my best prima donna 

voice, "If you're going to be my manager, I'm afraid you're simply going to have to do better."

Taichi snorts. "Well I'm terribly sorry, your highness."

"So you should be."

There's a comfortable pause as Taichi sits down on the pink and redwood sofa and I down the rest of my water. Thirsty work, being a rock star.

"You were really great, you know." He says, and I can't help but be touched at the sincerity in his words.

"Could I have been anything less?" I reply flippantly. 

"Seriously." He says, watching intently as I take a seat on the pink-cushioned ottoman opposite him.

"Well…thanks. You were great too. Stuff never ran this smoothly with Missy cracking the whip."

Tai laughs. "I guess I'm just a more competent whip-wielder." 

"Guess you are."

"Ooh, hey! Look at that!" Taichi announces suddenly, obligatory compliments aside, and springs up, diving across the room to the far-side where there's a rail sporting colourful costumes encased in plastic and shelves supporting an impressive array of wigs. 

"What do you think?" He asks, selecting one of the wigs, a huge, sculpted lump of white vaguely reminiscent of Marie Antoinette, and dumping it haphazardly on his head. I raise an eyebrow, getting to my feet. There's something about making a fool of yourself like this that is just so appealing when you're full of adrenaline and energy.

"It looks like there's a giant marshmallow growing on your head," I tell him plainly. He pouts, yanks the wig off and deposits it on the floor in the manner of a five-year old, leaving me to pick it up and return it to it's polystyrene head before he tramples it.

"What about this? It looks like your hair." I look up from rearranging the marshmallow wig to see him wearing a mass of honey-blonde ringlets.

"My hair doesn't look like that!"

"Sure it does…it's blonde isn't it?"

"It does not! That looks like Goldilocks!"

"So do you."

"Oh fuck off."

He grins, obviously satisfied with my sulky response and pulls the curls from his head. 

"Oh my God, no look, this is the best one." His eyes light up as he throws the blonde wig in the vague direction of its shelf and seizes a rainbow Afro. I wince even though I KNEW he would pick that one. It's always the loudest, brightest, most cringe-worthy that Tai has to have. 

"Oh yes." He arranges the wig carefully, peering sideways into the lighted mirror before turning round to face me. "Do I look cool or do I look cool?"

"You look ridiculous," I say, trying my hardest not to be amused by such childish behaviour and folding my arms across my chest. He grins wickedly at me.

"I think Mr. Ishida's just jealous because his hair pales in comparison."

"I think that the blood flow to Mr. Yagami's brain is being cut off by that thing," I reply as Tai peruses the remaining wigs.

"I reckon…this one!" Predictably, he takes one of the wigs from the shelf and puts it on my head before I can stop him. It's sleek and shoulder-length, made out of shiny silver metallic stuff.

"There! Don't you look lovely?" Tai says, stepping backwards to admire me. I scowl and he laughs.

"You could wear this in your next concert!"

"Or how about I don't?"

"Aww…" He sympathises sarcastically, reaching out to tuck stray strips of silver behind my ears, letting his hands trail down my face. I try not to look at the multicolour monstrosity he's wearing when he leans in to press his lips to mine and slip his arms around my waist. In fact, it's quite easy not to look at it when your eyes are closed. I might have forgotten about it completely had I not tried to put my arms around his neck and ended up practically up to the elbows in rainbow fuzz. 

It isn't until we're back at his house (somewhere that I have quickly learnt to call 'home'), glowing with the success of the concert and curled up together on the sofa, that I realise how much I have to thank him for. And I would thank him too; if he weren't already asleep, his head in my lap still encased in the rainbow wig that he smuggled out under his coat. I can feel my eyelids drooping, and I allow them to close, lulled by Taichi's comforting warmth and the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. He probably knows anyway.

But I must remember tell him in the morning. 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

_I'm coming home to you  
I'm alive, I'm a mess  
I can't wait to get home to you  
To get warm, warm and undressed  
There've been changes beyond my dreams  
Everybody wants me to sing  
There've been changes beyond my grasp  
Things I'm sinking in  
  
So keep me in your bed all day  
Nothing heals me like you do And when somebody knows you well  
Well, there's no comfort like that  
And when somebody needs you  
Well, there's no drug like that So keep me in your bed all day  
Nothing heals me like you do  
  
And when I'm home, curled in your arms  
And I'm safe again  
I'll close my eyes and sleep  
To the sound of London Rain So keep me in your bed all day  
Nothing heals me like you do  
  
Nothing falls like London Rain  
Nothing heals me like you do  
Nothing falls like London Rain  
Nothing heals me like you do _

~ Heather Nova, 'London Rain' (Nothing Heals Me Like You Do)

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

A/N: Oh my God…it's actually finished. I can't believe it. Now I can start new projects. Oh wow! I have so many ideas! But I'm kind of sad that this is over now…oh no…

Hey, who wants a little sequel for Christmas? I really want to write a sappy Christmasy fic and I think I need something to help me 'find closure' (as Alice would probably say) on London Rain. Ooh! And I have the best idea for one too! 

What do you think? Sequel?

__


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